The Song of the Accursed
by Shayatin
Summary: The nature of man is a cyclical dilemma of endless fighting of will and desire. After the fall of countless civilizations filled with magic and wonder that faded into history, humans live an illusionary life that is peace. But nothing remains the same in the natural order, and progress demands a lord to mantle the weight of souls of the world. To bear the curse of Undeath.
1. A Seal of Fire

**I**

 **The Seal of Fire**

 _Here in this shrine_

 _Do I awaken from slumber_

 _From here do I arisen_

 _Out of the ashes and embers_

 _So that I might remember_

 _Hereafter I am unshackled_

 _Unbound from life and death_

 _That I may conquer the unconquered_

 _Bend Light and Dark_

 _Life and Death_

 _Ice and Fire_

 _That I may tame Soul and Matter_

 _Time and Space_

 _Man and Dragon_

 _And when all have listened_

 _And all that shall see_

 _They will remember_

 _The Accursed_

 _\- The Last Pygmy Lord_

* * *

 **Jon Snow**

The cold winds breezed across his face; it was the only sound he could hear in the Godswood.

Jon Snow comes here often to center himself from his daily life. Here, in the presence of the Old Gods, they only request a silent prayer and nothing more. The scenery was beautiful, where the dark red leaves of the Weirwood tree would as though make the area here feel like it was fall come again. The blazing sunlight illuminated the scenery of the pond that only enhances the beauty of this place. It was a cold, dark, and gentle place.

He laid back and looked at his reflection from the pond. Looking at himself made Jon served to remember how others reminded and saw him in the likeness of his father's appearance. They both shared the dark hair, and grey eyes, but he did not bear his family name. Tainted at birth, he was out of wedlock; nonetheless, he did have a place here with his father and siblings. However, a bastard didn't mean being having the same great privileges as that of other children of nobility.

The sound footsteps were approaching him; a familiar voice called out his name. "Jon," his brother Robb said, "I had Rodrick and Theon meet with us in the courtyard, you ready?"

"Yes of course," Jon replied. Stretching as he stands up, having spent his early morning sitting here. A good sword fight would help stretch out his muscles. He took one last look back at the Weirwood tree before leaving.

It faces strangely was tearing out the blood-like sap from its eyes.

As both walked together and walked throughout the castle, they would come across their household members. They always greeted with a nod in respect when coming across a Stark. Robb, as expected the heir of Winterfell, repaid in kind or always express his gratitude for their service. It was something Jon had always admired and envied about his brother. He was the more talkative of the two, with a charisma that could lead men and capture everyone's attention. He, in contrast, would remain silent and humble. Never stepping out of place to take his brother's spotlight.

The sunlight shined in his eyes as they made their out in the courtyard. There was a moment when he finally had to squint his eyes from the sight of the sun, blinding him. When his eyes widen after adjustment, Jon could finally see the courtyard. He saw Hullen was with his father tending to the horses, Mikken heating the fires of the forge, the guards patrolling the watchtowers and gates.

Rodrik and Theon were right by the training section, awaiting them. Theon had that familiar cocky looking face, probably in the mood to get back at Jon from their previous dual. Rodrik, their mentor, in contrast, had a warm greeting smile.

"Ready Jon Snow?" Theon asked with a bit of spite in his last name to annoy him. "I'm itching to get my sword arm ready and beat you this time."

Jon frowned, "Gladly. I'm in need of a good dummy to beat down senselessly." He spoke in a tone of confidence, but also an edge to his voice. They didn't have the best relation as Robb did with him as friends.

"All right now," Rodrik interrupted, "your dueling, not gutting each other's throats. Grab your blunt swords and begin the match."

Jon and Theon both nodded and grabbed their practice swords. With respect, they moved a few steps away from each other and waited out for the first to make their move.

He decided to take the aggressive approach when Rodrik immediately yell to begin the match. He launches a series of blows against Theon, to try to draw him out into attacking him so he can beat him down to the ground when he leaves an opening. Theon was on the defense, however, blocking his attacks but also wasn't making any attempts to swing his blade.

After the next strike several after, Theon then finally brought his sword to clash against Jon's and beginning to push him back. He then made a swing under Jon's rib cage, but he quickly blocks it. The fight was a competition to make a quick strike when one was about to swing his sword.

Theon then thrust his sword towards Jon, and he made a quick turn to dodge it. In an instant, Jon threw a punch at Theon and fell to the ground.

He quickly placed the tilt his sword in front of his face.

"Yield," Jon smirked victoriously.

Theon grumbled but made a nod at his defeat. "Yield, now move so I can get up."

Jon didn't bother to lend in a helping hand. Neither one usually asks to help the other up after their dual. Had he not been Robb's best friend, he had probably beaten him much sooner for the many rude jokes that he made fun of him.

It all started when he learned about his shyness of women, so he usually brings up the subject of his accomplishments of whom how many he flirted, or have laid down in bed. He would talk about his favorite, Ros, from the brothel that was outside of Winterfell or indeed any woman for that matter. He found it strange that Jon wouldn't take the time for himself to enjoy the pleasures of a woman.

 _I swore that I would never twice damned another child to a harsh life._

As Theon left the ring, Rodrik called out to Jon "Well done. Robb, you're up next. Get yourself ready."

Robb nodded. As he made his way into the ring, Jon made a quick stop to duck his head into a barrel of water, to refresh himself for his next match. Robb was a much bigger challenge and only one his age that can compete with him in a fight.

He and Robb were different in ways of how they fight. Jon was more quick and agile then Robb, but he didn't posses Robb's strength, at how he places his sword swings in his attack. When backed into a corner Robb would act like the wolf and have a better advantage.

"Begin!" Rodrik yelled, already, Robb jumped to make his first move.

Jon quick went on the defense and blocked his attack. For a blunt blade, Robb was quickly attacking with precision. He was going forth with every strike to push he back until Robb was tried and fall.

With sudden quick thinking, Jon went on to hit Robb's sword as he was about to strike. He then twisted and rolled off to the side to attack him from the rear. It was Robb's turn to be on the defense when Jon began attacking.

Their swords both clash, pressed against one another until it reaches to the shoulder of their swords.

Then, however, Robb's sword swooped off from hands after the short out clash. Leaving them empty-handed, Jon went for the grab and threw Robb down. His arm pressed against Robb's throat, leaving him defenseless.

"I Yield Jon!" Robb yelled with laughter.

Jon accepted it with a smirk then gave him a helping hand back up.

Hours passed after Rodrick gave him congrats, and they started moving on to train in using different weapons from a mace, with a shield, a spear, and back again with swords. Sometimes Jon would win in his fights with Robb, but the horse lancing was Robb's mastery, and he couldn't beat at him in that. When it came to archery, however, Theon would have the upper hand against both of them.

Jon and Theon, stood side by side. Their bows lifted towards their mark. Patiently waiting to for the right time to shoot. "Aye, you just gotta aim it in the right place Snow," Theon said, his eyes remained in sight of his target. "Don't get all bitter if you lose; you know that I'm good."

Jon eyes squinted, "I'd focus on shooting Greyjoy."

Theon huffed out loudly as he loses his arrow, while Jon released his at the same time. In the precise moment, Theon made his mark at the center.

Jon, on the other hand, was so lucky. "Damn, did it too soon." He frowned at his target.

"Getting frustrated?" Theon asked with a sly smirk. He gave him a glared at for questioning. "No need to get mad Jon. I know you don't want anyone thinking your a sore-loser, but you do get gloomy when others are thinking about you."

Jon shook his head. He wouldn't let anyone think even less of him of his capabilities with a sword or bow. For all his life, he shared the same dreams that any boy wished. Becoming a fearsome warrior, that fought for dignity and honor. Sometimes he would even dream of being a conqueror.

Theon cut him out of his concentration, "We should go out on a hunt for a couple of days, in the Wolfswood. Master Luwin said that the entire week would have the warmest days in the North before the coming winter."

Jon raised his eyebrows at his suggestion. He doesn't ask me to do anything with him. "Since when have you wanted to invite me to your hunts?"

"I'm in a good mood today," He replied, "I asked Robb to come. Go camping and hunt for some boars and wolves. I could use another hand to use a spear." Theon snorted, "Besides, Robb would want you to come anyway."

Before he could reply, a ruckus came from behind. The sounds shifted from the rack where the weapons were stacked.

Jon's felt the sensation of warmth and joy rather than, concern from the incoming sound. There was only one person he knew that would be hiding behind them.

"You can come out," Jon yelled out for his sister Arya. She likes to hide her presence until she was called out.

When Arya appeared, she had on her dress with mud staining it. He could tell she felt very uncomfortable with what she was wearing. Usually, she would wear something dirty and boy clothes. However, the colors of her dress reflected her features. Her eyes, for the most part, were her most prominent feature. Grey-steel, yet with an odd element of ice like color around the iris.

She often came here to hide away from her lesson; a desire to join in her brother's adventures and daily lives. Rather than share in her sister's hobbies of fantasies and gossip like a young little lady. He scoffed at the idea of that; she's nothing like her older sister Sansa.

He gave a smile to his sister. "Hiding again from Septa Mordant?"

"I can't stand her!" She complained, "I've been knitting and wasn't getting it right. It frustrating!"

He chuckled, she would have done better at pinching with a dagger at a dummy, then knitting a piece of cloth. "Here," he passed his bow to her, "You have fun with that while I go talk with father." Jon turned to Theon, "Does Lord Stark know about your hunting trip?"

"Nah, I haven't spoken about it with him yet."

Arya's eyes peaked with excitement, "Take me with you, ask our father if I can come along." She pleaded.

"Doubt it, my lady," Theon said, "This is a hunt they will going for days in the wilderness."

"I can take care of myself!" She yelled.

Jon understood her plight. He would try as he might, even though he knew What the answer to the request would be. "I'll talk with father, sister. Don't worry about what anyone else says."

"Thank you, brother. He always listens to you..." There was now a glimpse of hope in her eyes.

He roughly rubbed her hair as she with laughter fought back. He made his way to the court hall's door; he looked back to see her practicing. Examining her posture and stance, as she made a dead shoot center. Her progress had quickly improved.

She was the closest out of all his siblings, and the most he shared in common. She was headstrong and tomboyish, none care in the world if she was going to get dirt on her if it meant she could be the warrior queen with a sword. They would play their roles, and he would pretend to be Aemon Dragonknight fighting against Arya as Nymeria, the Queen of the Rhoynear.

 _"I'm the strongest, bend the knee Dragonknight!" She would shout._

However, one time, when they played their routine little sword fight, Lady Stark caught them. Since then, they have never done that again. Lady Catelyn would at a distance watching over them when Arya was free from her lessons. Her face seeing them together sword playing was probably the most he saw lady Catelyn fumed, with her face twisting ugly with anger in his entire life. It caused Jon to wonder if she believed that he would hurt his sister.

He never held it against her for feeling threatens of his presence. He knew it was because of the history of bastards of committing betrayals, even against their blood kin. Still, that wasn't to say that he didn't feel pain and his hatred towards her too. But, he never dared to speak back to her. For the best, he supposed that he should be glad that now, she would only give stares, and a few words.

Jon put his mind to the present as he went inside the courtroom where his father, Eddard Stark was sitting. He was reading parchments of some kind. They didn't appear to be of any importance as he quickly shoved them aside when he felt his son's presence.

"Jon," he spoke, with a softness in his voice. "What is it?"

"Father," He started professionally, "Theon spoke about going out on a hunt together for a couple of days with Robb and me." His father didn't reply, knowing that he had more to finish saying. "Aya also express the desire to join." He caught his throat feeling uncomfortable after saying that last sentence.

He sighed. Despite being lax at times with his sister, Ned would have her return to her lessons. "She left her lesson again?" It was more as a statement then questioning. Jon could only reply with an apologetic smile.

Ned turned away and stood to look out the window. His hands placed behind his back. "I'll talk with her. You may go out with no more than five. Take with you two of my men for this hunt."

That went smoother than expected. "Thank you, father," giving a low bow. He looked back up to see his father still looking out without any apparent sign he is freely dismissed.

"Father?" he asked

It was the late afternoon and the sun setting down. Light pour onto Ned's face where he could see him. He had a somber look. It was unusual; he otherwise would have a usual stern expression when his father was giving a lecture, or when he was committing a sentence and drawing Ice. Here, it was a reflection of remembering a painful memory in his life.

"Your sister is just like your aunt," Ned said. "In appearance and personality. Never taking in an interest in being a proper lady, only wishing to ride her horse out in the wilderness" He placed his hand on the table, his face melancholic. "I know I can't keep her from stopping what she wants to do. There will come a day, where she will choose to follow her own heart and not out of obligation." He looked back at Jon, returning a sad smile.

Jon's eyes widen at what he said. His father spoke little about his aunt Lyanna. He only knew that she was told to be beautiful and that long ago, was kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen. To learn that Lyanna though was similar to Arya was surprising.

It brought his mind back to Arya and the times where she would come to him when she was upset. Sansa and her lady friends would sometimes talk behind her back. One of them one-time horseface and that became a nickname for her. It would infuriate him to no end when he first heard that. He saw none of that and thought she was pretty.

 _"Don't listen to them, Arya. You're unique, never feel dissuaded." He said to her way back and hugged her with all his strength._

 _"Thank you," She whispered in his ear as she pressed her face to his shoulder._

If Arya were indeed like Lyanna and would one day too, grow like to match her beauty, then he would pray for that.

"By you leave father," Jon stated. He didn't wait for a reply back to his father, wanting to return to his chambers.

The evening arrived. Jon made his way back, with the sound of cold breezes echoing in the halls. His footsteps were making soft thumb noises when reaching his room. Opening his door, he was meet with a nearly empty dark room. There was no warmth in here, with only ash littering the floor from the fireplace.

Jon looked down to scoop up ash in his hand. Rubbing it against his two fingers, regarding this little speck of dust that had once been fuel for a fire.

He then falls to his bed, allowed the dark to take him in his sleep.

* * *

 _A fog clouded everything in sight. He couldn't make sense of any direction, nor of any destination in place. The grey crag-ground beneath him desolated of life and barrenness._

 _He felt senseless, empty and without purpose. Suddenly he was walking what seems to be a gloomy limbo._

 _Then things began to appear out from the great fog. Magnificent Trees; mighty and robust than any he has ever seen. He could not see the end to where their roots and trunks reached. It was as though they never did stop growing._

 _When he looked beneath the high trees, he saw gigantic, winged beasts in deep slumber. They all had scales that were stone-like, with many different features, sometimes having more than two wings. Their bodies weren't that of a beast, but more humanoid._

 _He could not marvel at them, he sensed their annoyance at his presence and chose to continue his endless walk. As he walked, he came across a cave under of those magnificent trees again. Whispering sounds like choir music echoed from the cave calling out to him._

 _He entered and fell in what felt like the heart of the world. There was something inside here, with the realization that he was being drawn here._

 _Everything around him changed. Fire and the Darkness appeared, the first two to formed together from this discrepancy of a world._

 _The preeminent flame was raging out like a storm, with its darkness as its shadow. As the superannuated fire burned brighter, so did its shadows grew ever darker than ever._

 _He wanted to peer into the core of the flame. There was something inside it; something that made it radiant like no other burning fire has ever done so. To describe the flame as beautiful only diminishes its power._

 _When he finally reached to the flame, he did not feel any burning sensation. He was beginning to understand what it means to have a mind, feelings, and thoughts. It fueled him with more than mere life, more then what he was beginning to comprehend. For what else could a great firestorm give him that was extravagantly substantial?_

 _He walked closer again and closer again and so forth._

 _He finally understood now what this was..._

 _It was no ordinary flame, for it burned within the essence of all ideas. These were the very things that have conceptualized the world. He was standing at the totality of everything._

 _At that moment, he never felt happier in his life._

 _He tried to take this imperishable flame for himself but was forced back when trying to reach the fire. All around him came beings from the dark shadows. They too clutch for this primal flame and were granted fire._

 _They were each given a share of the flame's carried ideas. The natural essences' gave them a sense of identity and purpose. They shaped, they transformed, and finally, they are..._

 _One was the first to die, but granted death itself._

 _One was bequeathed with life, and beget daughters of her own._

 _And one was given light, and he cast the Sun upon the world that enkindles all concepts._

 _All the shards of the flame were passed down; each one received a gift. The fire still burned brilliantly as it did, but it had nothing left to give._

 _He didn't receive a gift of his own. Nothing was granted to him. Why would was he denied?_

 _Why was I denied..._

 _What soon to be a moment of despair, the darkness cast itself on the fire, coiling around itself and cast a tiny flame unto him._

Perhaps he was indeed given the best for last.

He held this tiny flame so dear to his life that he couldn't bear to lose. This flame was different from the rest. It contained within a power of its own so unlike the rest.

It burned so brightly...

Its core was so dark...

* * *

 _Then the war came._

 _The bearers of the flame sought dominion over the world against the dragons of the earth. Spears of sunlight hurled against the dragons, destroying their immortality. Untamed fires burn their homes that were rooted below and above the sky, and miasma and rot brought ruin upon them all._

 _When the war was finally over, a kingdom was forged at the top of the world, almost touching the sun. The cities far below were expanding across the mass land and far out. Other kingdoms were then made in imitation of first but never reached far out to meet with the first in the starry heavens._

 _Then peace changed into conflict. The light was fading in and out. Darkness began to leech and bleeding itself. As Light attempted to snuff out its defiance, Darkness only grow stronger. They coiled into an endless spiral without end and couldn't be stopped._

 _The two worlds were now forever in conflict with each other._

 _The bearers of the flame were the first to learn the meaning of fear. As the Darkness was growing, so to did their precious light began dying._

 _And at the center of it all, he was there. Armored head to toe in terror in brilliant darkness. Was marked with a ring of fire etch upon his soul. One hand wielded a burning red sword, stabbing a serpent. His other hand, burned and cindered, was crushing another._

 _He could not look upon at what he has become. For it too terrifying; as it was like staring into the heart of nothingness itself. His eyes were black as a void, his skin was that of a flayed man, and he could feel of dark emotions that waved within his presence._

 _Calamity fell upon the world._

 _Light and Darkness are clashing._

 _And the dream was fading..._

* * *

 **Robb Stark**

The morning sun was rising and touch his face. His eyes are wide awake.

Robb looked out from the window to take in sight of the view before him. It was early dawn, but the night of the heavenly stars was still visible. The glittering of stars coloring the sky, with the red wanderer as the brightest out the tiniest stars.

Turning away, Robb changed into sturdy leather for Theon's impending hunt. It was his friend's idea to go out hunting for a couple of days, but he also wanted his brother to join with them in this. Theon wouldn't have mentioned it to Jon if unless he asked. Master Luwin told that it was a perfect opportunity for this time in the summer, and he wanted time away from Winterfell. He wasn't going to leave him out of this.

As he went down the stairs to the hallway table, he saw Hallis Mollen and Alyn sitting there. Two men that Robb has chosen to accompany them on their journey. His father wouldn't let them the of three go off without some guardsmen to attend them, but It was probably more to quelled any worries that his mother would have in his departure.

The ones he picked out were probably the most oddballs of all his household. Hallis was tenacious in his statements to point things out, even when they're already apparent to everyone else. Haillis was stalwart in his duty. Alyn while polite, was a bit of an oddball to some here in Winterfell. He had a lot in common with his sister Sansa, when it came to dreams of knighthood and heroics.

"Milord," Alyn spoke, sitting down with a plate of a piece of bread and some water. "Your meal will arrive shortly."

"Thank you, Alyn," Robb smiled but had his looking across the hall. It appears his friend and brother were not yet here. "Have Theon and Jon arrive before me?"

"Theon Greyjoy was here milord," Alyn replied. "But he took off into the kitchens to see Marya." He smirked.

Robb chuckled at that. Theon had taken a liking to Marya when first served him one time. He tried to allure her with his charms. She rejected him outright, finding him to be too dull for talking too much. He hadn't gotten his chance with her yet and wanted to prove himself.

"And my brother?"

Alyn shrugged. "Haven't seen him, my lord. I went to go check if he was in his room, but he wasn't there, nor was the outside of the stables."

That's surprising, and it was quite unusual for Jon to be hiding out in an upcoming event. He was the one to make sure he had a head start, in preparation for everyone else. Always the dutiful of the two older brothers.

As Robb went to sit down, a servant girl arrives with a plate of steak and eggs ready. He could smell the rare meat coming off and felt his stomach beginning to rumble.

Theon then arrived shortly after. He went to greet him with their the usual forearm handshake. The three of them listened to Theon's bragging; about how he at least manage to get a perk on the cheek from Marya. For him, it was a step toward obtaining her affections.

"Have you seen Jon?" Robb asked. He would have thought that he arrive soon, but there no one else coming down from the hall or the door.

"Yeah I saw Jon," Theon replied, with a bit of annoyance in his voice. "When I went to talk to him, he was run off to going outside." He took a sip of his water. "Didn't bother to say where he was heading."

Robb nodded. They waited for a little longer to see if he'll arrive. When it appeared Jon wasn't coming anytime soon, they left for their stable.

Hullen was there tending to the horses, brushing the dirt off of one. The horses' eyes told Robb of that he was enjoying himself. When finished, Hullen greeted them with a low hum and then bow to Robb in his presence.

"They're all set now Hullen?" Alan asked.

Hullen turned to them, "Yes indeed they are. I'm sure they'll have a good time out. They have been stuck in here for quite a while and could use the walk out in the fields."

Once finished, they had their saddles placed on their horses, along with small bags that carried their food and tents.

"You have my thanks, Hullen," Robb said. "Did my brother Jon, pass by here?"

"Last I saw him he was talking with Mikken about something. He then left off, and I hadn't seen him since."

"Did you find out from Mikken what he wanted?"

He shook his head, "No my lord, Mikken only said that Jon asked for a request and left it at that."

"Thank you." Robb then turns to his horse and climbed on him. He, along with the rest of his company rode to the gate, waiting for Jon to arrive. Robb looked at his men. They were inspecting their weapons, ready with sword and spear in check. Theon as always had his bow with him and a waterskin filled with wine for the trip.

Jon eventually arrived. He was wearing a black cloak that was thin rather than made of wolf pelt skin like they have all worn. He wore his hood that concealed his face, but Robb could see the eyes had dark underlines.

He didn't sleep well, but he could skip out breakfast to run off to find a blacksmith? "You all right brother?" He asked. "Would you like me to hold the reins while you sleep?"

His half-brother looked up, smiling yet looked ready to fall asleep. "It's fine; I only had a rough sleep; bad dream last night."

"What now," Theon chuckled "Old Nan's stories hunting your dreams now?"

Jon let out a deep breath. "Not now Theon, let's get a move on." He quickly rode off from the rest.

They immediately catch up to Jon as they rode across the hillsides. The day was indeed the hottest it has ever been. Usually, the air was cold enough, that can leave a southerner freezing off from a pure breeze. For a Northerner, that nothing. This week will probably be warmest for anyone living out here would receive.

Along the ride, Haillis began pointing out things that were visible. He would talk of the natural sights, from the shape of the clouds to the type of birds flying passed them. It kept things from being quiet on the way to the Wolfwoods, also gave Robb time to further plan their trip.

They planned to make a stop at Crofters' village before heading out into Wolfswood. It wasn't too far from Winterfell and had a dirt road to help them travel the forest. If they happen to go out too far, they can take the broad highway to Deepwood Motto.

The men made a stop when the village was in full view, miles away from them. They could see the town had the two lakes between them. The Old Gods were strongly active here, just right in the middle of the lakes. It was said their faces blessed the sap coming from their mouths aside from their eyes. Most didn't often come here near them to offer a prayer, for fear of inciting their wrath.

Up ahead of them, there was a robed figure walking in their direction. The stranger wore all red, with golden lines across the robes, with black gloves, each finger wearing fashioned rings. The hood didn't leave much in the way to cover man's face. Instead, it had straps that concealed his eyes and partially his face.

"Hmm?" The stranger seemed to have recognized now he was going to walk right at them. "I didn't know that I could easily attract so much attention here." His accent wasn't Westeros, perhaps Essosi?

His appearance seemed to say otherwise. The robes fashioned like that of a southern lord, but each of the rings had symbols of dragons that would look to appear from eastern lands. The man's skin was almost pale, with a sickling look and an unbearable look of disgust he was displaying.

"I do hope you won't waste my time with pointless questions regarding my appearance. Or perhaps you are more civilized than these barbarians that I had the pleasure of encountering."

"Watch your tone," Alyn spoke defensively. "You speak in front of the heir of Winterfell. The son of the lord who rules these lands."

"Oh am I?" he sneered. He looks at each of their faces, with an arrogant smile. Not seeming to care about Alyn's statement, despite the weight it held. "I didn't know that his lord's peasants are allowed to live in the comfort of dirt, and hug trees for salvation."

"Why You-"

"Enough," Robb cut Alyn off. "You, whatever business you have here, you best be on your way." He finished with a firm commanding tone in his voice. Robb had never met someone so loathsome to outright insult his people in his presence.

The robed man was ignoring them, mumbling to himself, a language he couldn't make sense off if it were a language at all. Jon and Theon were glaring at him. The former had his hand gripping his sword, ready to draw out and cut him down right there and now.

The robed man turned to smile back at them.

"Excuse me for my attitude. I must take my leave."

The man turned his head to Jon and gave him a nod as a final farewell. "A word of advice to you heir of Winterfell." He looked directly back at Robb, "A lord cannot go without his throne. Remember that. Kukukuku." He then walked past them chuckling, until the sight of red was gone.

Theon boiled with rage, "Robb, he insulted you! You're just going to let him walk away?"

Robb shook, "There's no need to go after him. He's not a Northmen and doesn't understand our ways. He remains ignorant, let him. Were he to enjoy ourselves, not to worry about the petty insults from a fool."

Theon look like he wanted to protest, but stopped what he was about to say. If his friend decided it wouldn't affect his honor, then he would allow this to slip past them.

As they reached going around the lake, they spoke with the watchtower men and were granted passage in. The villagers were out in the fields working and paid no heed to them as soon as they recognized their color. The chieftain, offer them drinks for their time staying in the village and hearing his stories.

"Aye," he said, speaking to Alyn. "My lads had been out in Wolfwoods lately. They haven't had any luck finding any boars or any dear either." His full voice caught all their attention. "When they came back, they mention how the forest was completely dead silent. The very notion of the rivers have seemed to stop, and almost as though they were in the presence of something haunting them! Ha, getting scared of their shadows I say! My boys almost shit themselves."

"And this has been going for days?" Jon asked.

"Supposedly," The Chieftain replied. "The village has been running low lately on hunted meat. We've managed to not starve as of yet."

His eyes frowned and stayed silent before speaking again. "Did you spoke to a cloaked man passing here, in red robes?"

"Yes, I have," The Chieftain eyes narrowed. "Nastiest fooker I've ever meet. When anyone came to speak with him, he would curse them off with some jabbers insults, or merely mock us. I'm surprised that my men hadn't thrown him out for some of the remarks he made about our clothes...we let him stay for a brief time, and he left without saying a word."

Robb and Jon both shared the same look. It looked as though the strange man bewildered the villages' folk here. There was no denying that the robed man had a bad mouth on him as well.

"My lord..." Alys with uncertainty in his voice, "Do you wish to return to Winterfell?"

"Go back?" Theon yelled, "You're going to let some foreigner scare you into going out hunting?"

"You have seen the way the people acted here. They simply let him go around gods know what, and possibly pass a spell on them!" Hallis replied to Theon.

"We've talked to him, and nothing has changed about us. Stop with this nonsense."

The argument eventually stops, and Robb decided they would continue with their trip. They made their farewells with the chieftain and rode off into the forest on the pathway made leading to Deepwood Motto.

The trees shadowed the corners of the forests. There was indeed no sound made other than own as they continue riding their way through. They traveled on for hours on end in the woods and was about to turn into nightfall.

They had not found a single target in sight.

"What in gods name is going on here?" Hallis spoke, "There aren't any animals here!"

"I knew we should have turned back to Winterfell. This place is cursed; I tell you."

"We came all this way here; it's too late to turn back now."

"Brother," Jon turn Robb's attention to him. "We haven't found any to hunt yet and were pretty low on food. If we turn back now, we can make it to Crofters' village before it gets too late."

Before he could reply, a crack sounds were echoing, the sounding touching across the entire woods, setting the horses into a panic.

"Woah Steady boy!"

Everything was starting to feel uneasy. All around, Robb saw and felt as though the trees were looking down at him. The branches were reaching out like bloodied hands. Seeking to take them as their shadows were blocking out the remaining light of the Sun.

A sense of unbolding had taking over him, the crackling returned and came at a close distance. He, Jon and the rest were drawn out their swords, while Theon had bow and arrow set and drawn.

"Come out now whomever!" Robb demanded.

The sound crack came back from by the bush. It jumps out quickly; small and furry.

T'was, only a rabbit.

'I'm losing my nerves over nothing.'

"Ha," Theon laugh and lose his arrow on the rabbit. It shot into its neck and began struggling as blood was bleed out quickly.

Despite the animal dying quick. He saw in its eyes the uneasiness of what was happening. It must have known that something was wrong and fighting for its life. For a moment, Robb was feeling sadness towards this little young creature. Who would never again be able to hop as it used to, despite his own need of hunger and survival?

 _'When have I started to focus on staring deep into the eyes?'_

"We should begin setting up a fire." Jon suggested, "The night is turning, and it'll be cold out."

"Agreed brother. Men," Robb spoke loudly, grabbing everyone attention. "we'll be setting camp down here."

* * *

"Hey Alyn, do you think the blue star is an Ice Dragon?"

"How should I know? What would a dragon be doing up in the heavens?"

"Old Nan used to say how the Dragons high above the north, would come falling and the become as hot as the sun. That they would engulf the earth and turn the realm into ash."

Robb never heard that tale before, "Old Nan said this story to you?"

"Yes my lord," Hallis nodded "Then she talked about how there are large giant crows, that clutch man and feasted on them dead or alive."

"That isn't the only story Old Nan shared," Jon replied, taking a sip from the waterskin. "Some of the folk would tell the same story, but a different version. The crow story that you mention once applied to men born with feathered winged-arms and a birds head."

"The Old Hag always spouts all source of nonsense. It's best not to take them all literal." Theon commented. As he was eating a piece of the rabbit, he killed.

A sly smile crossed Jon's face, "Didn't you said that you believed in merlings mated with the Ironborn, Theon?"

"There is proof of their existence though! My father's seat; the Seastone chair, was made out an oily black stone that exists nowhere else in Westeros, aside from something similar that was said to be in Oldtown."

"Whatever you say Greyjoy."

The young men continued sharing the tales of old around the bonfire, from the famous heroes of old to the stories of the dark creatures of the North and Far East. As the coldness crept behind their shoulders, they sat closer to the warmth of the bonfire.

Eventually, their storytelling ended, as soon as Alyn and Hallis went off to sleep. Jon, Theon, and Robb were the only ones left circling the heat.

"I've decided that I want to join the Nights Watch..."

Taking up Maester Luwin's advice I see. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Jon seemed a bit offended. "Of course Robb. How could I not? I won't inherit Winterfell. I won't even have something directly gifted to me alone from my family. At least joining an Order will grant me honor, instead of looking down at me for my sure name."

Theon chuckled at that, "You can't be serious. You'd rather freeze your cock off guarding against a bunch of Wildings? You can easily make a name for yourself a hired sword in Essos, hell even down south. You want the Wall instead?"

Jon's face scowled, "There is honor in guarding the realms of men. I won't give myself less as a hired sword or ride away from my home. You know that better as does anyone else."

Theon scoffed at that, "Do whatever pleases you snow. If you want to be an innocent maid and live as a standing statue in a frozen wasteland, go right ahead." He finished his meal and stood up. "I'm heading off to sleep now." He walked off it now leaving only the two of them.

Robb looked at Jon; seeing him staring into the bonfire as with the world disclosed around him. His face was calm, but he could tell he was feeling anxious and thinking about his parents.

He understood why Jon wanted to leave. He felt to be burdening father, despite all that he's done for him and had the full distress of his mother's silent wroth. Robb always felt a bit of resentment that his mother would distrust Jon and dislike him so. Why? Did she think that he was a real threat to him and their siblings?

"You don't have to join the Night's Watch to prove anything brother..." He tried to provide some comfort to Jon, "Father loves you. Everyone does...Growing up as a part of our family has more than proven your place here with us. Everyone recognizes you as a Stark."

"The son of a Stark, brother, but not a Stark." Jon corrected.

"Is there truly a difference?" He questioned, to see if he can disprove it.

Jon didn't reply and returned his head to look at the fire again. His face impassive, but Robb can see his hand twitch a bit as if he wanted to reach out into the flame.

"You know Arya would miss you," Robb added.

Jon eyes saddened, "Yes she will, but she'll understand..."

Arya was dear to Jon, as they were both similar in standing out with the rest of their family. She would always back him up whenever he was in trouble. If she were feeling alone and troubled, Jon would in return be there for her when she felt in need of help.

"When the lone wolf dies, the pack will survive." He quoted. "Remember those words? Were are family, we stick together."

"But wouldn't I fit the lone wolf, Robb? I wasn't necessarily planned for as a member of the pack. The role would fit me well."

"The Lone Wolf dies alone, Jon. Do you want that as your fate?"

Jon didn't answer. He was unable to come up with something conclusive, for no one wants to die alone. Not even those who were born alone in this world.

Robb decided to change the subject. "So what were you were doing speaking with Mikken?"

"What how did- oh, was it Theon that told you?" He places his clenched hand on his cheek. "I was asking for a request for him to forge a small rapier for me."

"A rapier?" Robb was puzzled. "What could you possibly need a rapier? You use a longsword."

Jon thought for a moment, "It was a gift for Arya. I wanted to give her something, fit for her size to practice with until she could later use a much bigger weapon."

"You know that father wouldn't allow her to pick up a sword, she would have to keep it secret," Robb then added, "You plan on going off to the Nights Watch. You won't be there to teach her."

"I know," Jon replied. "I was thinking...maybe you could teach her while I'm gone."

"I don't know how much I can help her on using a rapier, Jon." Robb chuckled. "I'd need to hire a Braavosi swordmaster to get her started, gods, know I can't afford that."

"Perhaps," Jon whispered. "But you'll do that for me won't you, while I'm gone?" Jon looked back at the fire again. Looking obsessively at it, as though to pull his thoughts away.

"Why do you insisted that you be with us any longer?"

"It's just a gut feeling that's all." Jon's eyes looked at Robbs. "I...I have a been having a bad feeling lately. When I went to sleep, found myself living in a nightmare that I couldn't awaken. It felt terrible Robb. I feel as though that it would be best that I no longer stay at Winterfell any longer."

Robb grabbed his shoulder, "Jon," He emphasized his name, "Don't feel dismayed as though you can't be with us." He turned his head away. "You don't need an outcast. Once our father has passed, and I become Lord of Winterfell...I Intended to see you legitimized as a true born son of Eddard Stark. Should it please you."

Jon's eyes widened. His mouth opens but couldn't speak. He felt that he needed to insist that he doesn't do something like that. That it wouldn't make much difference to his status as a child born out of wedlock, yet, it was all that he could ever want.

Robb could see that happiness that it brought him when he said those words. If it could bring some comfort, even at the cost of his mother feeling distraught, it would only be temporary. He wanted his brother to have a place in peoples hearts, and recognize his heritage.

Jon then stood up, letting out a deep breath he didn't realize, was holding back. "Thank you, brother." He whispered but was loud enough to hear.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. "I'm getting tired, and I need to sleep. Next morning we'll race for the biggest target?" He returned to his cheer self and boastful competitiveness.

Robb returns with a smirk challenge of his own. "Aye, we'll see who's the better hunter."

They bid each goodnight in a hug. As soon as he lost sight of Jon leaving into his tent, Robb watched the dimmed fire burning out its last fuel, and he snuffed it out with his foot.

* * *

 _The dream returned, it felt familiar this time._

 _Everything he's seeing was different. Time was unfolding, as Kingdoms were flashing before his eyes. All of the rising and falling, afflicted by the same conflict that engulfs the previous world._

 _The Lords were to inherit the past and preserve the legacy of great ages. Each had a great soul of power that allowed them to shape the land and built their kingdoms. They all fought to protect what they have created for themselves._

 _They all failed, and all were sacrificed._

 _One Kingdom beneath the earth fell from war. It's god roused, and it's wrath destroyed all._

 _One was destroyed at the hands of its own King, fueled by anger and greed. His iron kingdom burned and melted, leaving nothing behind._

 _One consumed by Chaos, It front defense, was also it's last. It encapsulated in Ice to contained the evil within._

 _And one fell into darkness, and It's king betrayed by his love that coveted a vessel. It wasn't the worse he saw, however._

 _For what came next was the worst he can imagine._

 _Ash covered this world. It's last Lord for hope betrayed that which he was promised to protect. The ancient city that bears the emblem of the Dragon, surrounded by fire and the dead man wandered its ruined roads. Their eyes burned with fire, and their hearts blacken with darkness._

 _It would happen again and again._

 _He saw a war in his homeland. Lords arisen with their false crowns, seeking fire and blood. All of them deceived by the lurkers hiding in their shadows. Blinded by what surrounds them._

 _From the North the Ice Wraiths sought the snuff out Fire, from the deep sea, the monsters sing as they eat off flesh and blood of man. Out of the earth, the ancients awaken in vengeance and bring fire to the skies._

 _And from the darkness, men take their true shape and bring ruin upon the world._

 _Light encircles darkness again._

 _And the dream once more faded again._

* * *

 **Jon Snow**

"Jon-"

His shot open from his nightmare. Ignoring the yelling coming from his side, he quickly passes his eyes around his surroundings. He saw Theon armed with his bow ready, carefully keeping a watch out. Hallis and Alyn, had their swords out, also armed for any danger in sight.

Screech noises caught his ears, high above it were crows surrounding them on top of the tress. Continually flocking their wings fast. All the while everyone else looked with fear coming from the crows' noises.

What is going on here?

Robb shook him by his shoulder, "Jon I need you to listen to me!"

"Wh-what. What's going on?" Confusion crossed his face.

"I need you to listen to me," Robb answered with a serious tone. "Someone is watching us, our horses are missing. We need to get back to Crofters' village."

Jon looked to where they had their horses place. What's left behind were bloodstains coating the grounds and tree barks. Without thinking for a second, he quickly got up and grab his sword, unsheathed it. The steel was well made; it's edge ready to drink blood for the first time.

"Sorry for keeping you on hold," Jon said.

Theon frowned "Don't mind us, we'll let you sleep passively while the rest of us get gutted." he said sarcastically.

Jon was about to reply before Robb cut him off, "You made it clear Theon, but right now, we need to start moving." He turned back to Jon, "Brother, stand by me when walking, Theon keep our back if see anyone coming across. Aly and Hallis you are in front, let move!" Shouting, everyone got into positioned and started moving.

Passing the forest again, they were meet with the same silence. There were no other living creatures here anymore, with only the crows from where they were before as the only sign. Only it was an ominous, and now it was even further dark and gloomy here than before.

Clouds covered the sun, blocking out any light for them to see further ahead. It was indeed now a cursed place: a trap seeking to lure it's prey to their deaths and waiting for the right moment.

Jon felt the cold winds blowing, it was supposed to warm out for the rest of the day, but now things return to the harsh cold winters of the North. His home was never a truly a forgiving place for those sensitive to its weather. You'll die if you don't endure but once overcoming that trial, then it was a peaceful land.

Right now, they were on a trail that took them down a hill, a cliff on the edge of the other side where it leads to a dark corner of the forests. Shadows were bleeding out and spreading to the rest of the woods.

He didn't want to be here any longer now.

Alan drew his hand up causing everyone to stop. "Hold up," Jon couldn't see his head, as he looked forward up ahead. "I don't like what's in front of us, let me go ahead." He turned back to Robb.

His brother replied with a nod, and he walked several steps ahead. Up ahead looked what appeared to be a body on the ground. It was large and rotted. He couldn't place it as to what it was.

Jon felt alert to what was happening, all around him and from the others faces told them this was possibly a trap, but couldn't remain here. The winds picked up and filled the atmosphere with more dread then before. For once, he felt fear gripped his heart.

He went to make a step forward, before when suddenly something falls right in front of them. Quickly causing the rest to jump and Alys to turn back around.

It was the severed head of one of their horses.

 **[OST- NAMELESS KING]**

Jon looked up and saw a man falling from a tall tree with two blades in hand. Landing right on top of Hallis, implanting his swords in his mouth and chest. Hallis' screams didn't cry out as blood chocked his voice.

He didn't have to think over as the assassin quickly jumps to attacking him and Robb.

The stranger had on a grab that was black, with the front of mask shaped that of an infant's face. Eye sockets had on black tears that made it look like the face was crying. He wields a scimitar that shined a milk glass color and a dagger that was bent out of shape.

He fought with a swiftness that put him and Robb at an unfair disadvantage. He continued thrusting his swords at them in a move set that's foreign to him. Whatever it was, this assassin was skilled.

As the masked man went for a stab at Robb, he quickly made for a block as Jon swiftly went to stab him. Their foe parried his attack and went for a reach around to thrust his blade at Jon. Their swords were locked together.

Their battle shortly ended, when the assassin hit with an arrow implanted into his shoulder.

Theon then launched another arrow, this time it made its way through from the back of his head. The second shot was reaching out of the eye socket of the mask. The assassin fell, his arms wide open as the body slumped over Robb.

He ran up to him along with Alyn. "You all right?!"

Robb shook his head, "Aye I'm fine, be he almost had me. Help me pull this off of me Jon."

He and Theon went to pull over the body off of Robb, and he took his brother's hand.

"My Lord," Alyn spoke, "Crofters' village shouldn't be too far from taking a trail down left-"

He didn't finish as an arrow implanted into his neck; his blood splattered on their faces.

Then came crackling noises from the trees all around them. Men with the same masks on, peeking out from behind the trees. Jon could be heard them singing a tune song, like that of a children choir. Their voices child-like, but with malice and empty. They couldn't understand the language they were speaking, but their voices sang with horror.

The song began to ring closer to their ears as it was coming behind. Turning their heads to the direction from where the body of the dead assassin laid.

He was standing up again, with the arrows still implanted into his shoulder and through his face. It was as though nothing had made an effect on him.

None of them were able to a comprehend on how their attacker was still alive. Nor were they focused on the assassins walking closer to them. They only thought of now running for their lives.

They ran fast as they could with much heavier breathing then the last. Never turning back to see if they were chasing after them, as the singing was never too far behind. Jon pressured himself to run faster than before in his life. So desperate to reach for safety, and escape death at the hands of these strangers. For the first time, he only thought about running away.

In confusion, he lost track of Robb, as he made a turn left running off the trail to lose track of his chasers. He saw Theon and brother taking a different direction. Not even bothering to look behind if he was still with them.

He now had to fend for himself.

The dreams began to flash before his eyes as he runs. Images of people long past, all looking down at him with scorn and hatred. He heard their voices cursing his name and their laughter was bitter.

He saw a light at the end of the forest. It shined brightly, that it felt better to be over there, then where he was now. His legs were beginning to tire, but could not stop, once he's reached over to the light.

He finally gave out when the trees were far from his presence and were only met with the open field of grass and the lakes. What was soon to be hope, was swiftly crushed when the light was close enough to make out what it was.

It was Crofters' village, burning.

The fires darken the sky, and screams were coming from inside the houses. Bodies filled the streets, and blood fed the soil ground. Jon fell to his knees at the display of death in front of him. There was no hope in sight for him. 'Am I going to die here...'

"No, not you bastard."

His eyes widen from the voice, going into the defense and looking at his surrounding. No insight speaks to him. Fear has finally gripped his soul, and Jon felt incapable and defeated.

Jon looked back to the forest to see if Robb and Theon would come out. If they had managed to make it back alive as he did, he would see them approach. The only thing Jon saw was the hundred of visible masks appearing out from the trees. All of them standing and watching.

He could not face them, too many in numbers for him to fight. One was able to put him, and Robb on the defense and that assassin rose back up from the dead. How could he face one alone, much so several at the same time?

With no other choice, he decided to walk further into the burning village. The last place to leave his mark when he would die.

All around him the fires burned, he saw the corpses around him. Massive wound cuts from in front and back behind their bodies. Their faces all had the same look about them, the openly shared horror of death at the hands of those assassins that chased after him. It was the only conclusion he could come to as who did this atrocity.

At the side, Jon saw the chieftain's body laying on the ground next to his sons. As they were all given the same sort of death of slashes on their bodies; with the exception, he saw on the chieftain's body, were on his wrists and a knife in his hands. It appears that he took his own life when witnessing the death of those that he loved dearly.

Eventually, the flames started to burn around him. The small houses were collapsing and catching the ground on fire. He found himself with the center within the burning village.

The flames spiraled and twisted. They were like crooked fingers, clawing everything around them. Jon was beginning to feel the heat strongly touching his skin. Eventually, he'll start to feel the burning pain if he stayed here any longer.

He heard the sound footsteps from behind, the sound of stepping over the bodies with no regard to walking over. He turned to meet the enemy, his hands gripping his sword tighter then it needed to be.

This stranger was different from the assassins. For he was tall and imposing. Wearing a strange black armor set, that appeared to be burned yet also still wearable to use. Ruined majestic robes attached to the armor, lose on the pauldrons and waists. In his hand was a straight sword, its hilt twisted and angled in a way that made the sword look demonic.

"Hmm, another, yet barely standing still." The stranger's voice was deep, with an apathetic tone to it.

Jon didn't reply, and he only brought his sword up, his hands turned white from holding it very tightly.

"It's only a matter of time. Soon you will be joining with the rest."

Jon's face twisted into anger. "I won't let you kill me without a fight!"

"Hmph," The armored man didn't seem impressed "...Very well then" he said, "Come forth, I'll let you deliver the first blow."

Charging forward, Jon brought his sword upwards and slashed at his opponent.

Their blades began dancing together, as the flames coiled and were like spectators watching them fight to the death.

Jon roared with each strike time and time again with all his might. The man in black armor didn't even flinch. His swings were strong but fought wiout much effort.

His opponent then struck with incredible speed, his attacks swift, causing him to lose the grip on his sword with every attack.

Jon found that he could fight any longer. He was losing his strength, his arms were aching, and every block, he sword pressed closer to his face.

Eventually, he collapsed, and his sword kicked out from his hand.

He could feel the dark blade plunged into his chest. Blood began to pour out of his chest and mouth. He couldn't find it in himself to yell out or curse his killer. The man, in turn, only looks at him beneath his hood, covering his face.

When his killer quickly pulls he sword out of his chest, his legs finally gave up on him, and he fell. His sword close to him was now a handicap to keep him from completely falling face down.

"You have lost," his killer said, "and now your soul will be mine."

The man brought his other hand up. A strange red glow was appearing, and he felt it's power coming close, consuming what was inside him. It was intense and a new experience a pain he never felt before.

He lifted the last of his strength into his fist and thrust a weak punch at his killer's face, once more in defiance at the bitter end of his life.

The glowing red hand dissipated, stopping from what he was about to do. Jon could feel the last of his strength returning. If he only for a few more breaths, he would throw in another punch.

The mysterious man in armor didn't draw upon his power again but instead looked at him, observing. He grabbed his face, lifting from his chin; Jon couldn't see his face, but he knew he was directly staring at him.

"Hmmmmm interesting."

He let go of him, and he was meet with a kick to his chest on his fatal wound.

"You stand defiant to the end, but there is a darkness inside you. An ecstasy of emotions and nostalgia flowing within you..." His head turns away for a moment. He lifted his hand again. It began to change into a different color.

He held in his hand a flame.

"From this moment forward...you will have no beginning..."

He slammed it into his wound.

"and without no end."

It felt a first as an intense pain only by his chest and heart. Now, Jon could feel the burning sensation all over his body. If this was what it felt to be burning alive, then he could finally scream now from the unimaginable pain spreading all over him.

What was only for a few seconds felt like hours of no end, without hope of the pain stops. Even now as he was entirely on the ground face front, looking towards the sky, the burning would not stop. He could feel it everywhere, but it felt like it was swallowing itself from where he first received the burning sensation and it only intensifies.

Jon couldn't tell if his killer was still there and watching and frankly didn't care at this point. He'd only wished now that this pain would stop and was granted the mercy of death.

Somehow Jon knew that wasn't coming soon.

From the sky, raindrops began pouring down. Jon could feel it coming against his face. It provided little comfort, as to the burning had only increased his already agony. The rain just got stronger that he can't tell from own tears falling out of his eyes.

 _Father...I failed you...Brother...I'm so sorry I left you behind..._

 _And Arya..._

 _I'm sorry that I can't be there for you anymore._

He heard voices screaming his name, but he couldn't turn his head to see who it was. The sound was difficult to pick up.

He has chosen to fall into a deep sleep where a couldn't wake up. Released his mind to stray away and wither away his senses.

 _And allow the darkness to take me..._

* * *

 **HEY GUYS, HOPE YOU HAVE ENJOYED THIS. THERE WILL BE MORE TO COME BESIDES THIS I HAVE PLANED. LEAVE A REVIEW. IT HELPS A LOT TO GET YOUR INSIGHT.**

 **DISCLAIMER: A Song of Ice and Fire belongs to G R.R. Martin, and Dark Souls belong to Hidetaka Miyazaki.**


	2. The Fate of the Cursed

**II**

 **The Fate of the Cursed**

* * *

 **Arya Stark**

The unprecedented storm cried out suddenly, without warning and left the outside of Winterfell shrouded by its heavy rain. With winds invisible to the eyes, and only could be felt by its pure strength when it blew down everything that it pushes through. The only source of light outside, was that of the flashes of lightning, sent down from the heavens above.

As the winds worse over time, the entirety of the household in had to remind indoors and couldn't remain outside. The few outside lost their grip standing would fall. Arya was brought into her room with only her fireplace lighted, and an incomplete rag from her needlework.

Arya was beyond bored as the feelings of anger build within her. She saw no reason for remaining here with only what Septa Mordane left her to fiddle on her work. By her father's command, he had all his children stayed inside their rooms until the storm ended, she wanted to protest, but the look on her father kept her silent, and all she could do was mumble.

She couldn't say the same for almost all her siblings. Bran and Sansa shared her sentiment, but Rickon was the only one that grew fearful of the storm. Every sound of thunder that had the roar of a dragon would make his cry greater than the last. It became too unbearable for even their mother to handle, she used every possible method to calm him down. Rickon, with no other option, was given a small dose of dreamwine to help soothe him back to sleep.

Putting her thought aside, Arya returned to the rag left behind her desk. It was uneven, a simple plain piece of her work, which left her frowning for failing at creating something perfect. She didn't care for needlework, but there was a keen desire for accomplishment in her works, rather than anything based on what she was taught to be ladylike.

Aya began to use the sewing needle to make scratch marks on her desk. Drawing swirls and circles that connect. She had no interest right now finishing her needlework. There was too much fear built into her chest. Her brothers were still out and had not returned.

She couldn't let it out in her mind that they aren't doing well right now.

When they planned on leaving, she wanted to join them. Her father came to her when she was doing archery with Theon back at the courtyard. She knew his answer before he refused, but she fought back about it. Now though, she can't be there for Robb and Jon when they are trapped outside in who knows how much danger.

Mother had pleaded for her father to send more men out to find them, even when it was terrible to go outside. She saw the look on her mothers face; the terrible fear of losing her brother Robb weighted heavily on her emotions. Father would point out the danger of sending anyone else out there, where the winds right now can blow down the trees and leave them stranded. For now, until the storm was over, there was nothing that they could do.

There was a knock at her door, and it was relative and at a fast paste. A guard immediately opens the door, his face with uncertainty. "My lady, your father requests your presence. It's immediate."

She was about to reply but was cut off before she could ask, "It's your brothers they returned, one of them gravely is injured."

What? She surpassed turning her face with frightfulness and immediately followed the guard. She didn't bother putting the time into putting on any shoes and a warm fur coat on. Not when her mind was racing at what has happened.

They reached into the main hall where all her family members were there. Mother was hugging dear to Robb. Unmoving as there was letting out tears smear on his already wet coat. Sansa's face was horrified, and she kept her hands to her mouth, too scared to shout and shook at sight before her. Bran was too still to move, his eyes even at what he was staring.

He was looking at Theon holding Jon by the shoulder. Bleeding, and bruised, their half-brother hanging off like a rag doll.

 _JON!_ Anya's mind screamed. She rushed to grab Jon, to hold his face up.

Tears began to fall from her eyes. For the first time, a pain of coldness reaches into her the moment she saw her brother. The locks of his hair were covering his face, but she could get a glimpse of the paleness that colored his cheeks. He was still, with his eyes only staring down. There was no expression. Only a silent look too frightened to make a face.

Then father appeared with Maester Luwin at his side. His eyes widen "What has happened Robb?" his voice raised and eyes hardened.

Robb was catching his breath, "We were attacked by strange men, unlike anything I've ever known," He looked away, turning his head towards Jon. "In the moment of panic when we ran, Jon made a different turn, and we split up. Theon and I tried to find him when the assassins were out of sight, but we couldn't find him."

His hands clutch into fists "Then we saw Crofters' village burning. We decided to take out the chance at finding any survivors left...but they were all dead," There was water in Robb's eyes "They butchered them down mercilessly. The sight of their wounds made it look as though wild animals slaughtered them!" He screamed.

There was a moment of breathing before he finished," Then we found Jon was among the rest of the dead..."

Father did not say a word. He only walked over Jon, pulling the hair to look at his eyes. His left hand squeezed into a fist. Ned then spoke louder then he'd normally. "Luwin, treat Jon's wounds quickly."

The Maester rushed over her brother without hesitation. Aya moved aside to leave Maester Luwin with space next to Jon. He placed two fingers him over his neck. For what felt like hours, in a few seconds he made a nod, "His pulse is beating, he's still alive."

Arya released air held deep within her from Luwins words. He's still alive.

"I'm afraid though as of his symptoms and condition, I need to work on him right. Here." Lupin's tone was severe and directed at Eddard. Her father made a nod to Theon, who was still holding onto Jon.

In need of something for Jon to lay on, Theon unfashionably clear dining table. Much of what was already there was thrown down on the floor, but no one seemed to care. Luwin quickly lifted a knife to cut open his shirt, cut in two with his chest bare for all to see.

When his torso was visible, Arya could see all the wounds. Some of them look like bite marks from insects, and some were scars he gained from his rough training. What stood out the most was a wound on his chest, there was a deep cut close to where his heart would be and circling it what looked like a recently burned mark. Strangely, the burn mark was perfectly aligned, making a strange design that made the wound almost appeared like a gaping pit.

Who could've been capable of doing that?

"His wound is deep," Maester Luwin frowned "I'll need milk of the poppy to treat him."

"Do whatever is needed," Father's voice was shaking without hesitance, "He cannot die like this."

When Luwin returned to heal Jon, Father had everyone returned to back to their rooms. Arya catches a glimpse of Robb and Theon. She could see the look of defeat and fear on their faces. Not like the times where she would see them when they acted playfully mad or annoyed when losing. It was like that in the stories, where crestfallen warriors have lost in battle and saw comrades fallen.

She feels her Father's directly at before he turned to mother. "I'll take Arya back to her room. Take the rest of children back to their chambers."

Her mother only gave a silent nod. She took a moment to glimpse at Jon, her face unreadable but hardly with a look of remorse for her. She had her hand gently placed on Robb's shoulders, and Rickon held by the other, walking back to the room. When the guards escorted the rest of her siblings, it only now the two of them, her father and her alone. She gripped her father's hand, as he, in turn, squeezed back.

Neither of them said a word to each other as they walked together back to her room. The feeling of apprehension about her brother's life did not leave her still. It began it crept up on her from the neck to back. A shivering feeling that she wasn't familiar with crawled beneath her skin. She always had the best of confidence in her brother ability to do anything. Still looking up to him, even in her worst of moods.

For the first time, she feared the worse for him, and couldn't help but think this is something he may never be able to recover.

Edward reached for the door and opened it. The sounds of the heavy rain and winds were still at present raging out. Her father tucked her into her bed, but she wasn't feeling tired, too much was on her mind.

Anya's father broke out the silence. "Arya, Jon will be safe I'll make sure of that."

She looked back with a solemn look "But what if he doesn't come back from this?" She raised her voice, beginning to shed tears.

"Arya..." Edward said in a low tone. His eyes were also sharing the same sadness as her.

Her father began rubbing his head and eyes. Concern was racing in his mind, and the stress was growing further. Without hesitant and without her notice, he pulled her into a hug. She could feel him weeping, tears running down and reaching her hair. Ayra then let herself cry into his shoulder, letting out all her extreme fear of losing her brother.

"Who would do this father? Why would they want to hurt Jon? He never did wrong to anyone!" She cried out.

"Whoever did this will pay Arya, I promise you that. Right now, he needs us as much as we want him back with us. I promise he will be safe." Her father's stern voice returns with a vengeance underneath his voice.

She took in her father's words. She knew he would always do what's right and keep his promise. He would get back at those bastard who hurt and tried to kill her brothers.

Ayra's eyes dried as soon as she couldn't cry anymore, and allowed herself to close them shut until she could finally fall asleep from this living nightmare.

* * *

 **Robb Stark**

"Please Robb, rest." Catelyn pleaded. "You can't go out again, not after everything that has happened!"

He retaliated "You expect me to to do nothing? I can't, not after what they did to Jon!"

"Your father promised that he would take care of it. Please trust him. He already sent out men to Crofters' Village."

Robb sighted. It's been a week since the ambush, and there hadn't been any whereabouts of his attackers, or who it was that left that wound of Jon. His father had taken off with a group of riders to hunt out in the Wolfwood. Along with alerting Robett Glover of the situation within his territory. So far they haven't found anything.

Even the bodies of Alyn, Hallis, and the villagers have all disappeared.

It was as if had nothing happened, as though it was a ghost town the whole time that burned down by itself. It made things unnerving, and have left any household guard with family in Crofters' village with dismay and depression. Whispers in the halls have been spreading, with fear that it was a curse that happened from the others. He and even Theon tried to assure everyone that it wasn't an attack of the Others. It didn't make things calmer for a lot. There was still a significant number of disconcerting faces that are afraid.

"Robb, your father has placed his trust to you in being in charge of Winterfell while he's away. You know you cannot go back on this." Mother reminded, with a soothing voice.

He merely stared at her.

"I know you want to join with your father to chase after the men that attempted to kill you. Don't hastily risk your life from something that has put you in danger. You are here now, where they can't reach you or our family."

"I wasn't the only one that they were after..." Robb crossed his arms. "They were also after Jon as well."

Catalan blink for a moment, feeling alarmed. "What could they want with him?" She was confused at his suggestion. "He has nothing of value for them."

He didn't want to respond but couldn't help himself. "You mean because he's bastard and irrelevant."

His word shook her and eye swell, hurt of his words. "That's not what-"

"Mother, Robb," A young voice cried out, it was Bran. "Where are you?"

Robb decided to change the topic "In the main hall little brother."

He arrived with a pack of arrows dangling on his belt. The young Stark eyes were red and glassy. He hoped Jon would come back to help him. The thought made his chest ache.

Seeing his siblings cried left him with more dread than it was fighting for his life during that horrible hunt. When he lost sight of Jon, betrayal griped him. The unforgivable feeling that somehow, it was his fault for running and not looking back to see if he was still with him. Abandoning him to fend against the assassins in the shadows lurking behind, that he would have to bring the news, Jon died because he left him behind.

He and Theon found him back at Crofters' Village. The lone survivor amongst the corpses, yet he was still like the rest. He tried shaking him, to keep him awake. Robb had no choice but dragging him, at the worst time too, when the storms arrived.

He didn't think they would have made it back to Winterfell. It was a miracle itself that they did make it.

Jon, however, didn't appear that he will live after this, not with that stab wound in his chest.

"Is Jon awake now?" Bran softly spoke, "Will he be here to help me now?"

Robb gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Jon is still resting. Maester Luwin said it would take a long while for him to wake up fully."

Bran wasn't satisfied. "But he said he might not make it at all." He almost cried again "It's been a week, and he hasn't come out of his room or move out of the bed."

Their mother went to comfort Bran. The sight of Bran and mother hugging each other didn't give him any relief. Robb knew that his little brother had to take this harder more so than even Arya. She would come out as headstrong and steel her feelings. Bran, however, was more sensitive, and it was only after out of sight from Jon, did he begin to start crying.

Robb would try his best, "Bran I can help you with your archery. Does that sound good?"

Bran let go of his mother and opened his eyes to him. He had a smile on him, but forceful. Bran was trying his best to be the optimist.

"Yeah," His brother softly said. "Let's go."

So they did. Bran ran off ahead while he bid farewell to his mother. She didn't bring back to what he said earlier. Thank the gods for that. Robb would prefer that, lest things turn heated into an argument.

Winterfell's courtyard wasn't back to the way it was. He can see the wreckage littered all across the ground. All the household servants were working in their routine, but there was a high presence of uncomfortableness. Patrolling guardsmen moving paste very quickly, Hullen and Harwin clamming frighten horses, and up ahead he saw Arya and Bran waiting for him. He lacks the same familiar enthusiasm he would always greet them. They were only looking at the haystack targets.

Theon was approaching, replaced with a simple nod instead of his cocky smile or cheerful attitude. There were no words needed, Robb understood his silence as exhaustion from the whole massacring event. That storm took a lot out of him, seeing it as a bad omen from the Storm God.

It was undoubtedly, a strange experience.

He turns back to his focus on Arya and Bran. Both of whom were not shooting as well as they have. Arya was more forceful with the string of the bow, and Bran was steadily aiming as he would. They made their shoot Arya's didn't make it at the center. Bran's just merely missed it altogether.

The archery would continue until he pressed in and expressed his encouragement. They would smile back at him, and it did help in efforts a bit than the last few times.

"Robb," Arya spoke, "have you seen Jon?"

"No I haven't Arya," Trying to dismiss it, "You know he's in his room resting right now. We can't see him."

"But I can't stand waiting around for him! He needs us, Robb, as much as we need!" Her grip on the bow tighten. Her fingers were nearly turning white.

"I..." What could he do? Just..walking in to see his brother? Would anyone, notice nor even be harmful to matter? He can honestly agree with Arya here that he's grown impatient on waiting out for Jon's health.

"...All right" His little siblings' eyes brighten. "Let's go see Jon, but stay quiet. Were only going to check on him."

Aya and Bran waste no time. They immediately drop their bows and run off back into the hall. Robb rushed to catch up, calling out to wait for him.

As they finally were a step away from Jon's door, Bran knocked. A usual routine even though he's not going to answer back.

They enter the room, Robb could see Jon laying on his bed. Bandages wrap around his torso, and fur blanket covering him. His eyes closed shut, and he didn't look as though he was breathing.

Arya was the first to check on him quickly. She placed her hands on her brothers head, seeing if he had a fever. Then she put her head against his chest gently. Waiting to hear his heartbeat, if it was still there.

She didn't move from where she was standing.

"Arya?" Robb was beginning to worry again. There was that return of uncertainty, just like back at Wolfswood. The crept of darkness hanging on your skin.

Jon eye's open wide.

"Jon-"

Robb didn't have to time to react, as his brother reached over Arya and had his hands on her throat. A sudden moment he only stood still but didn't let go nor pressed. Jon's eyes flow bloodstain red and filled with dreadful terror.

"Jon!" He rushed over to his brother to remove his hands over Arya. His hands would let go, and time, Arya was fighting back. It would take only a moment did he finally let go.

As Robb looked back, he saw her still. Arya was walking back to Bran until he grabbed her. Their faces twisted with shock and fear of what Jon almost did.

Teardrops fell from her eyes.

Robb turned back at Jon with a murderous glare. Jon, however, was widening his eyes with despair and panic. He didn't stop staring from where Arya was, look down at his hands.

"What have I done..."

Jon was beginning to breath heavy and fast. His hand was gripping tight where his wound was.

He choked on his words. "Ar-Arya I-"

She didn't stay to listen and ran off. Bran followed suit.

"Jon you-"

"I know what I did!"

Jon pushes away Robb. Running off chasing Arya.

 _What has happened to you, Jon?_

* * *

 **Arya Stark**

Arya didn't care where she was going. She wanted to be away from everyone and alone.

For a whole week, she was worried about Jon. Weeping more than she ever felt the need, fearing that she was going to lose him. Consistently, she would fight these thoughts, believing that he would wake up and returned to himself again.

Over time in days that gone by, she would sneak into his room to see his progress when Maester Luwin would leave his room. There she would find him asleep peacefully. His was unmoved, but the stillness of it had drawn her.

She thought she would see that again, where he would remain in a blissful sleep and awaken to the presence of those around him. Those that needed him the most. Every night, she would see Bran run to his room when it was time for bed. Sansa, though she may have not taking as hard as her, was distressed as much as their brother Robb was. He would continuously task the other servants around albeit politely, but it was out of his character to do so.

Father looked grimmer than ever. He has made it a priority to alert the North of the incident and to hunt down and capture the men that tried to kill her brothers. In the last few days, her father rode off to Wolfswoods blade in hand, along with Ice. He would come back with nothing left but a stern look on his face.

Aya turns around from her thoughts are look to her surrounds. She was reaching for the crypts. It was the only other place where she could hide away from everyone right now. Bran tried reaching for her but run faster so he couldn't keep up. When he was out of sight, Arya ran down the stairs without care of darkness taking the light away.

Further ahead touches were hanging on the walls where she could see her family and ancestors tombs. She could see the many statues of the Winter Kings, their faces seemly looking down at her. She never had any fear of crypts, but observing it now, she understands why the rest of her siblings felt creeped out coming here.

Arya made a quick jump and hid when the sound of footsteps was coming close behind her. Between two of the stone kings, she could make out who it was.

"Arya..."

It was Jon's voice.

Arya couldn't move. The passing thoughts of his awakening burned into her. She saw his eyes, the terror and hatred within them.

She remembered his hands on her throat, ready to squeeze the life out of her.

Jon wasn't himself when that happens she knew, but couldn't bring herself to crawl out. He never threatens or harmed her, always by her side and treated her like how all other ladies were supposed to. Jon would teach her how to fight, go on hunts with her when she dressed as a boy, and always listen to her feelings.

In those passing moments when she looked in depth into his eye did she see pure malice in them. Those stark grey eyes brighten before her like the winter ice. Like it was starting at a fear wolf that hungered anything it devours on. Arya tried to fight off, but it was only with Robb's help that he let go of her.

Aya watched him from afar when he walked past her. He was making his way to the end of the crypt where their late aunt Lyanna was.

He trembled down. Jon grabbed tightly on the bandages, seemly ready to rip them off.

"I'm sorry..." Jon sobbed.

She continued to stay where she was for a while, waiting to see what her brother would.

For what felt like hours, neither one made a step to move. Jon crouch down, his head laying against the crypt. His heavy breathing was echoing in the darkness.

She couldn't bear to stay in hiding any longer.

Aya took small steps, slowly reaching close. She couldn't see if he was looking back at her, his breathing slowing as she came closer to him.

"Jon."

Slowly, his head tilted and his eyes open. Still watering and slithering down his cheeks, his mouth opening but didn't make a sound.

Arya could see him now. His eyes were what recognize about him, with a quite sad solemn like how father was. The shared color of gray steel eyes, Jon would always tell her, that her eyes had a unique ring of ice to them. Like staring in the depths of cold starlights. When she had asked anyone else of what they saw, it would always be 'stark eyes.'

She never understood what it was her brother saw, but she always appreciated that he did.

Arya gulped "A-are you alright?"

Jon slowly stood. He limped a bit as he grips over the side of the wall to reach up. Walking carefully to her, she felt a strange presence to him. It was different from his usual self. He always is warming and comforting.

Here, his presence felt cold and dark. The longer Arya stared at him, the more it felt the shadows surrounding them would swallow them.

"Are you hurt?" Jon whispered.

Aya couldn't reply, not as long as there was that uncertain feeling crawling around her. She only turns her head sideways saying 'no.'

Jon let out a sigh of relief.

They return to their silent awkwardness. Each would continue turning away from one another, unsure of which sibling could say to the other.

The silence broke when Jon hugged Arya.

"Jon-"

"I'm sorry!" He cried. "I did something that I that can't forgive myself! I almost killed you..." His arms started shaking. The sight in front of her caused her to break down.

Arya replied with her arms around Jon, her head resting against his neck. "Jon, I forgive you." her voice was muffled, but he could hear her. "I want you to be safe. I was worried that you were going to die. We all did!"

Jon's eyes stopped crying. He pulled slightly away to look back at her. "You saw what happen to me?"

"Yes!" she shouted. "Robb and Theon were dragging you back. Your legs were giving in and weren't moving." Tears began to return.

Jon gently swiped the tears from her cheeks, giving her a sad smile. "I've been doing badly as a brother to you haven't I?" He bitterly chuckled.

Arya pouted at that and punched his shoulder. "Don't say that!" Her sadness turn to anger, filled with her return confidence. I won't let your despair. Arya took his arms off of her and stood tall. Like, father. "Promise to me that you won't leave us again; promise to me that you'll live and stay with me!"

She saw his eyes widen from those words. It was the first time Jon has seen her act this bold and prominent. Taking after their father, Arya can see that look for when Jon would act humble for when their father started his lecture.

Arya can see his eyes dilating, the pride within them. It made her smile seeing that. From that moment onwards, she knew things would get better.

"I promise."

Her smile sprang further, and she wrapped her arms around him.

* * *

 _He saw his home in Winterfell. Empty and quiet, with the snow falling, drenching it in white._

 _At the gates, his whole family was there in front of him._

 _Eddard, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, even Theon, and Catalyn. They're all there, with no expression but altogether looking at him, awaiting his arrival._

 _He felt happy seeing their faces. He had so much to tell them._

 _To tell them how much he appreciated still being alive still and having them alive with him._

 _He walked closer, yet this seems to change as he continued. The air was dense and felt too warm._

 _It was starting to feel like fire._

 _Horror gripped him, his whole family before his eyes were melting. Like paint, yet also fading right in front of him._

 _'NO!'_

 _He ran reaching over for them. His hands and arms open forward. Father, Brother, Sister._

 _'Arya...'_

 _He couldn't leave them again, not like this._

 _Can't return to the darkness._

 _Time was slowing him down, yet they were fading more rapidly. He only screams internally, to slow to let it out. He had almost died, he couldn't bear the thought of them dying while he lived, after all, that's happened._

 _It was too late they faded into nothing. One after another faded quicker than the other. His sister was the last._

 _His hand reached for, but it only grips the air._

 _'Why was is this happening!'_

 _'Because that is your curse bastard.'_

 _He couldn't move. Not from that voice. He heard it before, and he can feel the radiant heat from behind. He was too scared to look back._

 _The pain in his chest returned to him, he remembers now._

 _Suddenly he found himself turning around. He tried resisting, but a force was moving him, and could once again feel the burning flame eating away the skin._

 _It was him._

 _The same man that stabbed him that day. Still wearing that ancient ruin armor like it was his second skin. His hooded cloak coving his face, yet shrouded him in royalty._

 _His demonic black sword in hand, but was glowing red and black at the same time._

 _He could not move. Could not turn his head away and run, the world transformed into a land of ash and snow. The sky was dark and burning. The polluted covered in corpses and blood._

 _His eyes screamed as the burning sword stab him in the chest._

 _The same man was killing him again._

 _'Thrice dammed you are, bastard. First in birth and then in life. Now in death, you will find eternity. All things are brought forth and driven away. Those bornless will face my bladed carriage, for it is delivering the right stature that may irritate the sun with only his vessel.'_

 _His last moments was his dying scream and his decaying body._

* * *

 **Jon Snow**

Jon found himself awaken; the screaming brought him back to the wakening world.

Not again. Jon remembered the dream this time. The magnitude of all that he witnessed was madness. How could the gods allow such monstrosity to exist?

He rushed over the bowl of water to splash on his face. His head was pounding, feeling painful from having to awaken at this time of night.

Jon contemplated all that has happened. That attack at Crofters' village wasn't an ordinary raid by bandits. His attackers were trained assassins, in fighting styles he never saw before. What's worse, it seems like it was only one man that was able to kill everybody else.

The masked men were only out from a distance.

 _What were they doing in a village?_

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds hollowing winds of his opened door. Panic ran through him from the sudden moment. Jon grip the sword right over his bed.

There was no one at his door.

Jon began breathing rapidly. Did the assassins return? Were they toying with him and getting him to come out? Was this all in his head?

 _Did they kill my family?_

His dream returned to him. He won't let them take away his home and family.

Jon sheath his sword out. Keeping his guard up slowly and firmly walked out into the halls. The night of empty halls echoed his step. The source of light from the moon glowing out the windows, were his source to walk.

All the fire torches were out.

"Hello," he called out. He knew it was a stupid idea, but he didn't have anything better think about it. The guardsmen would always be on patrol in the halls. There wasn't anyone in sight. It only confirmed that something terrible has happened.

Jon rushed to the closets of his sibling's rooms. Bran's was his first stop. His bedroom door closed, yet it was unguarded from any interference. His hand tightens to his sword, in fear of the worse. Taking the risk, he slowly reaches for the first door to bran's room.

He opened the door slowly for the worse possible outcome. They could be hiding out and waiting to attack him.

"Bran," he whispers loudly, "are you awake."

No reply.

Steadily he opens the door widely in a rushed moment. He brought his sword out, his eyes pacing across the bedroom.

Bran was sleeping blissfully.

His heart stopped panicking, and the feeling of nostalgia was in place. He remembered when his brother would always be scared of sleeping in the night, the terror of the other's creatures coming in to snatch him away. Bran would go to him and his mother, asking to stay by when before he sleeps.

After he and Arya made peace, their brothers later found them. He could see the gripping fear that his sister had when he first saw him awakened. His brother Robb, weary yet no less pleased to see him and Arya were standing together without harm for the latter. His brothers help made a cover story for Jon when he had run off when not any notice of anyone seeing him. Thankfully Maester Luwin was able to regard his little incident as having a panic, considering he and the rest knew what happened.

The sound of wind pulls at him to look from outside. Jon could see from the outside where courtyard was. The night was peaceful, the crescent moon up high and the stars shining.

He breathed in the cold air, filling his lungs in place of the sensation from his cheat it burns. Jon had never known such pain in his life when feeling that burn, and indeed, like the fight, he had fought.

Looking at the bandages wrapped around his chest, he did not see any bleeding or any stains on. It was as perfectly clean when he had them replace the last time. He asked Maester Luwin if he saw any changes from his wound, but he said nothing of any significant injuries.

His only reply was that he found that there was burn was circular around where his chest wound stab was. For all tense and purposes, he should have died from that wound. It was a miracle that he didn't, Luwin says its one of those rare god given gifts that he'll ever receive.

Words echoed in his mind.

 _'From this moment forward. You will have no beginning, and without no end.'_

The idea that it was a miracle didn't assume him the very least. More like it was a curse even to be alive from what another said.

Down below he saw someone outside in the dark. Their presence was shrouded, but this only resolved his feelings.

They're back.

He made for a quick pace when leaving Bran's room and closed his door silently. He scouts out to see if anyone was out in the hall, but no one was in sight. He was on his own if need be, but he won't cower from these invaders.

He will fight and live, as he promised he would.

Jon was standing before the door that leads outside. His fingers are brushing against the door, holding his breath. What may be the second and most likely last time he would live if things don't go right. The comfort of the dark help blocks out the light when he closed his eyes.

Thoughts return from that awful night, his dreams. These things wouldn't leave him alone, and it hunted him. He could not find the answer to why.

His first theory was that it was a Targaryen vengeance. Sending assassins for his family's betrayal when his father pledged his blade to King Robert Baratheon. That didn't add up, as they were only attacking crofters' village. Otherwise, they would've met them sooner, or he and Robb would have been both killed in the night of their camp.

Then the words of that man who almost kill him ringed to him. He didn't expect his arrival, yet it made no difference to him. It was only at the last moments did he take an interest in him.

His mouth twisted when the burning sensation return to his chest. He was in no condition, yet he could not see any of the guards as he ran across the hallway. Hoping that the noise he caused would alert someone.

Nothing happened.

Alone again and this with certainty, he opens the large door ahead of him and stand ready against the familiar foe.

 _No..._

It was him again, in the flesh.

His heart froze. With a much clear sight before him, Jon can see the vivid appearance before him. It was like staring at an arisen dead king of the ancient days. The ruin robes that attached to his ruin armor yet still majestic as torn as it was. Silk unfamiliar to him, this whole stranger appearance was utterly foreign.

The man chuckled.

"I see you have recovered and so quickly." It stated. "Having some of those memorable dreams again?" He asked with ridicule.

Jon flared, "How did you get here?!" The gate to enter Winterfell were sealed, he shouldn't even be here.

"Your home is not as defensive as you think it is." The stranger tilted his head, "If you look more thoroughly here, you'll find that many secrets here will lead you to many passages...and many unknowns."

Jon snorted "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Irrelevant as of now. I've come here for you."

He put his guard up, the best stature his condition could pull. Jon's eyes ran around for any sight of help.

"Don't bother," The stranger as if he was bored. "No one here will hear you, or awake to your pleading. You are all alone bastard."

Jon grew angry at his words.

"You are after all unwanted, and you'll be glad after all of this is over."

"Shut up!" Jon went charging. He would not let him continue throwing insults at him or allow him to cause any more harm.

He pulled his sword up for an attack, but it never happens. Jon felt a sudden push that sent him over; as if there were horses that have run over him and crush him to the ground. It was in that instant he felt all the force through his mobility and couldn't get up. His chest's pain intensifies even further, bitting and grinding teeth from the agony.

Jon felt a heavy boot stepping on his chest.

He looks back at the monster that was holding him down, the one who caused him to be in this predicament.

"Wha-what do you want; why me?!" Jon shouted.

He received a reply with a laugh. "Merely hasten the inevitable for you. It won't matter if I have interfered with what you'll become. "

Jon coughs from the pressure. "I-inevitable?"

"Yes," He removes his foot and kneels next to him, placing his hand on his bandages. "To cast open the seal of fire in place upon your flesh. The Darksign."

The stranger grabbed him by the throat and lifted him with only his hand. "It is a curse placed upon man, where they will lose their soul and become an empty shell."

Jon mind was panicking at the ramifications of what this entails. By the Old Gods!

He threw him over the air and Jon landed on the ground. He couldn't find the strength to fight off. All of this felt like a nightmare repeating back again like before.

"When the curse takes a complete whole of you, it won't just be that you'll lose your soul."

Jon saw flashes of his home.

"You will lose everything."

He could see his family, the sigil of House Stark.

"Your identity."

He saw an image of his mother. Her beautiful and gentle face looking at him, with an infant in her arms.

"Your memories."

The image of his family.

"Your very light." He could hear the sneer behind the stranger's voice.

Once more the monster was standing before him. "You will walk the earth as something else entirely. A monster that only desires to feast on souls..."

He pulled off his hood.

"An undead hollow like myself."

His face was unnatural. His flesh was thin and rotten, yet remain intact on him. There was no expression on his face with only what looks like a fake smile on him. His eyes were empty, like staring into the depths of the void. Jon could not turn away now, the mysterious undead's words have taken hold of him.

 _This will be my fate?_ "Is that why you killed those villagers?"

The undead's smile only grew larger.

"Did you?!" Jon brought his head up.

"Yes, I consumed their souls." He spoke as if there was nothing wrong. "Sadly they did not possess what I was looking for." His face looked like a frown. "But it is of no consequence, for I have granted them mercy than suffer a fate worse than death."

"You slaughtered them!"

The undead scoffed. "You're not listening to me poor bastard. Do you want to know a cure for this curse?"

Jon blinked at that. "A cure?"

The undead put his hood back on. "If you wish the overcome the curse, and regain your sense of self and memories, you must feast on souls."

He reached out his hand, and from it, a bright flame appeared. It was pure light than that of an ordinary fire. It was awe and enrapturing to stare out; he could feel it's warmth and power emitting and brightening.

The undead crashed it with his hand. "Seek flame Jon Snow and harness it for yourself."

He then turned away from Jon and was walking away. Jon tried to stand up to chase after him, but his senses were leaving him.

"But know this when that time comes." He was walking towards the Starks Crypts, "If make this your driven desire before you die. When you do regain your memories, become whole and more, remembering who you are..."

His last words echoed in his mind before he found himself again fading in the wakening of the world.

"By the end, you won't even care."

* * *

 **Hi guys, hope you enjoy this and please leave a review.**

 **Disclaimer: ASOIAF belongs to G. R.R. Martin and Dark Souls to Hidetaka Miyazaki.**


	3. Unforsaken

**III**

 **Unforsaken**

* * *

 **Catelyn Stark  
**

The rain was the first to greet her instead of the morning sun, as she awoken and viewed her homeland from her chambers. Dark skies and crows were flapping and circling her home. Their screeching noises, crying out the coming day, It all felt like it was a return back to the horrid night before when Robb returned. Frighten, weary, and morbid.

Catelyn has always known Winterfell to be cold, harsh, and even very quiet for her liking. Now, however, this lingering feeling of fear had all but swept them away. The worry for her children lives, and even worse still, her children concerns for their half-brother.

Once she tried counseling Robb of the incident and reassuring him, but he refuted when Jon was brought up. While it wasn't her intention at the time, for the first time, her son was angry at her for dismissing him. Catelyn has always done what she deemed herself what she thought best. It never genuinely occur to her until now; she sees now how much her lord's bastard has reached into her children hearts and can't separate them now. No matter how much of her profound contempt she can shed towards him.

Catelyn couldn't take any more of the thoughts that have lingered in her head. She quickly left behind to make her way to the sept to make peace with her mind in prayer. It was empty with nothing, but candle lights ignited to each of the seven.

She kneeled before the Mother and Warrior for the protection of her children. Catelyn would repeat the same sermons that would always remember in her childhood in the days she dreamed of dutifulness and love. Mother and Warrior grant strength to the virtuous and innocence...

Her continue recitation of the words were interrupted when she heard a crack from the door behind her. The hollow winds were blowing out. The lights flickered and crept coldness has shivered her skin.

She didn't understand what she was doing, but walking towards the door. Catelyn followed the winds that lead outside. The cries of the wind and wrathful noises of the massive raindrops greeted her when she set her foot down outside.

The Lady of the Wolf reminisces back in her childhood at Riverunn. Compared to here, it was much warmer and lush with Godswood tall and leaves moisture from softer drops of rain. Her sister Lysa and old friend Petyr whom she grew up with most of her childhood. How they play together out in the wood, and the two sisters took the turn playing kisses with Petyr.

 _How foolish I was,_ she thought to herself with a smile.

Thunder startled her, turning her head to the dark-grey sky. The shape of clouds was ominous to stare. They were like in the form of dragons circling each other with the center a black-like-hole was pouring down the rain.

She turns her eyes away to see a man on the ground laying down.

It was Ned's bastard...

 _What is he doing here? What was he doing in the night?_ Once, her weariness towards Jon would immediately turn into silent anger, and then a quick but slice dismissal of him, just so that he remembers his place here. Now though, she could only look at him with pity for the first time.

When the boy was brought before her and Ned as though he was lifeless, Catelyn had thought that she would feel relief that he would no longer be a threat to her family and her children's rights to inheritance. However, she didn't feel that way, Neither did she felt dismissal of the issue, or even feeling nothing at all.

Instead, she could only feel pain for her children's pain over Jon. The tears on all of them genuinely terrified her of what could happen worse if Jon had indeed died. Would she of any capability to comfort them of that? What could she have done when the only she has done in the situation, was follow her lord husband's request to bring Bran and Robb back to their beds?

It was at that night, and when Robb argued back at her, Catelyn realized only bringing back Jon could heal this pain.

Moreover, she hated that. Feared it even of what Jon may be capable of doing.

Worse of all, she was now beginning to feel pity for the bastard.

She reached down to Jon, delicately moving the hair away from his face. His eyes were squeezing from dreaming. 'No more like trapped in a nightmare.' He was breathing heavily. Bruises all over his body, most significantly, marks on his neck.

She began to panic. Someone was able to reach into her home and could've killed them! Where they here still and hiding? Catelyn would have to move now to alarm the household guards of the situation they were in now.

"...Mother..."

Catelyn's heart beat faster when she heard him whispered. The gut feeling on the thoughts of Jon's mother, the jealousy of the woman whom Ned had loved so dearly to take their son into their own house. A woman the even her lord husband would not speak of, whoever she was.

"Never speak to me of that again." The words echoed still carried the cold and wrathful anger when Ned heard of the rumors of Ashara Dayne being Jon's mother. She did not know if that was true. For when looking at the bastard, he did not show any of the features of a Dayne. The daynish facial features like that of a valyrian.

No, somehow, she knew his mother was not a Dayne.

Catelyn could only see Stark as he laid on the ground still, not moving an inch or a flicker from his hands. It was something of a curse and twist of Irony that the boy would look more the son of a Stark than the rest of her children, except for her daughter Arya. Both were possessing the same hair and eyes of their father.

Now when she looked at him closer than she had ever done, she saw the distinct feature that separating his father. He had pale skin that was not like the color of the Starks. While Ned's skin was of a light color that could gloom in his presence, Jon's looked more like the frigid winters themselves.

It felt like she was now staring at the heart of winter itself.

It may be fitting for one with black blood in his veins. A curse of darkness placed upon his birth.

Despite all that, even the harshness she could ever do to him. Catelyn found for this moment and oddly; it felt peaceful to look at him.

"My Lady?"

A voice came from behind. It was Harwin.

"Help me carry him up he's in need of condition." She spoke directly. Commanding and immediately, the stable's son reached over Jon and carried back to the Hall.

With all her strength she hurries the bastard back to the room, just so that her children did not have to feel any more fear of losing him again, she helps carry Jon back. If this was a requirement in her duty, then she was obligated to help him, if only for this moment, for her children's happiness.

Catelyn and Harwin reach to his room and quickly placed him down on his bed. Quickly removing his we boots and shirt off of him. The bandages around his chest too were wet, but no sign of blood stains.

"Harwin," she turns her attention towards him "Bring in Maester Luwin to treat any injuries he has on him and brings along any servants in finding new garments for him and bandages."

She moves closer to him. "I would ask too that the children do not find out much of this as possible. They had enough to worry about Jon, please, for their sake."

He nodded. "I will alert the guards discreetly about an intruder my Lady. Lord Stark will need to be informed about this."

She swallowed about her concerns for Ned and what he'll make of this. "Very well, it is for the best though we don't cause a huge panic." Everyone is afraid, and I can see it in your eyes too Harwin.

Catelyn was meet with silence after Harwin left and she was alone with Jon. She could go now but decided to stay a little longer, at least until Luwin arrives.

To stay and look at Jon, if only on a whim.

She took a seat beside him as she would when her children would fall ill and wanted her comfort. Robb when he was younger, Bran when cried and needed her; Arya, when she hides under the covers, and Sansa wanted to hear tales of knights before sleeping. Rickon, the youngest of all, would cry before hearing her say goodnight.

Jon was just like them now. Sleeping blissfully, with the standard features they all shared with their father. Their long faces are smoothly still when their eyes have closed.

Then the bastard's eyes opened slowly. There was no shock nor fear nor any surprise at all. Jon's dark grey eyes peered into her, and a shivering chill made its way into her arms and back.

The eyes were different from before. The few moments that Cat would take to stare at him, to indeed look upon him in the same eyes as his fathers. Grey, cold steel-like, and vigilant as a wolf.

Now they were darker than before. Jon eyes had no emotion to them, cold and void, but masked what couldn't pass the veil of his pupils. They started to dilate in a twisted manner she has never seen before. It almost seems like they were changing colors before her. She could not stare any longer, lest she chose to be swallowed by the erupting eyes that threaten to destroy her.

Without any words said, she took her to leave and left him. He didn't stop her from what she's doing. Not a flick on his face moved when her steps made crack noises.

As she was closing the door, she finally hears his voice. Raspy and dark.

"...Souls..."

* * *

 **Eddard Stark**

A defeat was indeed a bitter taste, like tasting sharp iron or the ashes from a flame.

It was another to return in defeat without any hope or sense of peace.

The long hunt for the attackers at Crofters' village was the second time he had met defeat in his duty to protect his home and people. It was one thing to know your enemy when they have won the battle and learn from the mistakes, with a better understanding between your capabilities and that of the enemy. It was one of the first things he learned in his first battle in the Riverlands, fighting alongside Robert Baratheon.

However, this was where an enemy not only to have gotten away but also able to hide themselves and their intentions. When they made their way to the burned down village, all the stocks and goods of any worth were all still stash or burned along inside the houses. However, bodies? All of them gone.

Then there was his sons, Robb and Jon, both of whom were the only survivors alongside Theon, but Jon was injured and dying. He always thought best for him, for what was best for him, but when he saw what could have been the last moments with him, the return of guilt gripped him.

The memories of when he was an infant, crying for his mother-

"You've been quiet my lord," Robett stated riding beside him, tall and proud. "We have found nothing, and any trail in the Wolfswood has been swept away after the attack."

"It doesn't matter. I want men patrolling out for any signs of foreigners and inspect any travelers coming in and out of the North, that includes even southerners."

Robert wouldn't press against the situation, but it was evident in eyes that he was doubtful about finding anything further then what the have discovered. Even in the Wolfswood, the only thing left behind was the ominous presence of the winds and trees that darkened the pathway roads. The bodies of Wallis and Alyn have also disappeared. They wouldn't be able to recover them.

Curse these men to desecrate the dead.

The sight of Winterfell was beholden to eyes when he reached the hills. Eddard longed for the comfort and embrace of his family again. Once in the rebellion, to see Cat again despite their unfortunate circumstances; he found love again from her in these last 14 years.

Now he also sought to see his children again. To hear Cat staggering at Bran for claiming, Sansa knitting alongside her friends, to see Arya act defiant again; willful and wild, to join in her brothers' training. Robb and Jon-

 _Jon..._

Much guilt and pain were begging to reach into his gut. Eddard has always known that he would do what's best for Jon. A boy, quiet and distance from the rest of his family only because he shared their blood but not the name. However, he would always remind him that he is a part of the family and still will be a Stark, that he is his blood.

Blood of my blood.

 _Was this enough? Did I hold my promise to your mother, Jon?_ Ned thoughts ponder on this.

When he reached Winterfell, he saw the number of guards that were standing in place. More than what he would have in place. Something has happened. His wife and children were awaiting him. "Father!" Arya and Bran screamed, running over with arms full for an incoming embrace.

Ned hugged both of them tightly. His daughter Sansa was approaching as well. He then greeted her with a kiss on her forehead. "Sansa." His daughter smiled. "Father," she replied sweetly "welcome back home."

His wife Catelyn reached over, and he felt the warmth of her lips and have realized that he dearly missed them the past week. "My lord husband." A gentle smile stretch Cat's face.

"My dear lady." he affectionally said teasingly, grabbing to wrapping his hands together with hers.

They have taken a moment to silence together before Ned turn to his firstborn and ward's condition. "Robb, Theon," They both nodded. "Are you well?"

"We are doing well father." his son smiled, then his brows frowned. "Though I have wished you bring us along with you. We could've helped you in this."

"There was too much at stake Robb," Ned spoke softly. "I needed you here while I was away, I couldn't place you in any more danger as I did before." He padded him on the shoulder. "You are my heir Robb," Eddard spoke firmly. Live for your family."

He took notice of everyone was looking at him with weariness and concern. He couldn't find Jon among them. "Jon..." _Promise me._ "...Where is my son?"

Catelyn spoke hesitantly. "Ned...Jon was attacked again last night." His eyes widen, "Someone was able to intrude into our home, but we could not find where this person may have gone."

No. It was worse than Eddard thought. Someone was after his son.

He has protected him for all his life, even if it would keep him ignorant of the truth. Could someone know about his secrets, or was it a Targaryen supporter attacking his family? No this is something else entirely. No one else would know about Jon, not one other.

 _Promise me..._

"Where is he now."

It was Arya that spoke first. "He isn't talking to us father." He can see her beginning to tremble. "Ever since mother found him, Jon began to ignore us. He doesn't come to the yards, he isn't speaking with anyone else." she brought her head down. "Jon promised...promised to stay with us! I've made him promise me!"

The words began to ring in Ned's ears that he ran inside to find Jon. He could not fail her to keep him safe. He has lost one family; he cannot bear to lose another to death.

"Lord Stark" Maester Luwin stood in his way.

"Luwin," Eddard commanded. "where is Jon?"

His eyes flinch at the response of his son's name. "He's in the library." He looks from behind. "He's in that room since last and the entire day. I fear for his deteriorating health."

"Health?" Ned spoke loudly than intended.

Maester Luwin face was grave. "I've done all I could for him, but I'm afraid I don't know what ails him...I fear the worse of what the assassin has done to him."

"He was the only one that they have attacked and no one else?"

Ned only received a nod. Without anything left to say, he moved to make his way to the library.

The sound of his entrance at the door was with complete silence. Everything was dark with the only thankful light in the library was the ray of light from the window. It could only mean that Jon snuffs out the candles.

It has been years since Ned has come back here, the last time was to retrieve old stories for his children when Old Nan was feeling ill of sharing tales herself. Before that...was the previous time, he and Lyanna came in here to read old books. She would want to learn about the Winter King's tales, or some old tactics and personal writings of their experiences of combat. His older Brandon would lazily fall asleep on occasions when being tutored in the Library.

Ned would smile back on those memories. How he has grown from the child, he was. Innocent and creative when he once thought he could be different from his family. Fate seems to have a twisted sense of humor taking after parents. The middle child of the family as the second son left him between following his father's standards in tradition, and sometimes where he had more leg room to bend the rules. It was ironic that Brandon would do more so the latter than him.

When he began raising Robb and Jon, he hoped for the chance for things to go differently. Returning from war scared him. After so much death, how could he want to burden them of the responsibilities of being a Stark? 'Let us roam!' Ned remembered his sister's words long ago; When she and Brandon would argue with him about daring to go out into the North to find the lost children of the forest, thinking they could return with the songs of the earth and ride ice dragons like the Targaryens. He knew in each passing moment of taking command of soldiers and sentencing the man to the sword; he couldn't afford his children to be as hot-blooded wolves like his siblings.

The door up ahead was coming closer, and with it, the feeling of fear was creeping. How much did Eddard miss when he was gone? Was Jon disappointed that he left? Was he angry? Sad? Worse, did he doomed him despite all he's tried to heal?

 _Promise me..._

Inside the library it's hallways was also dark, much so the setting sun as the dark was rising above and below. He could not see where he was.

"Jon," Ned called out with a bit of hesitance in his voice. He did not receive a reply.

He continues to walk forward until he finally was met with candlelight.

There were books stack amongst the desk table, with other open books laid around on the ground with no regard. Ned could see his son, but only from his back. He had on him, a black cape with a hood over his head, adding more concern for his well being.

"Jon," Ned spoke softly "what are you doing here alone?"

There was a moment of silence when his son slightly moves his head from whatever he was reading. For Jon to not answer back to him this long added more to how much he has changed.

"F-father," He said, hesitantly but not with any surprise in his voice.

"Did you find the men who attacked me?"

Ned raises his brow at that. That wasn't he would immediately say to him. "No I didn't." a moment of silence return again. Jon's head was returning to the book he was reading.

"You need to get out of this room." He said gently but made it clear he was telling Jon.

"I cannot, not now," Jon whispered. "Not when I'm only beginning to understand..." he said more to himself than his father.

"Your brothers and sisters are worried for you. You need to be with right now. You can return here later, and we'll talk about this."

"There's nothing that can talk this..."

He has never acted like this. "Son," Ned raised his voice a little more. "You're not staying in here any longer. Go outside."

He waited for another response, but he didn't say anything. Jon's hands are gripping the table until his fingers were turning pale. Slowly, he rose from his chair and didn't lift his head towards him. Making his way pass Eddard without care.

Ned sighted. He would have to reprimand him if his started taking it out on either servants or his family. It will not suffice, but he will allow Jon off the hook this time.

He walked over to the books that were open on the desk. These were books he never delved into, all of them were writings on magic; most involving about the dead.

It chilled him to his core, what was Jon delving into that was important?

Looking past all the books, one stood out with its black color design with a round red color at the center of it, he open to turn to look at the first page. The writings were of a different language he couldn't read, but there was a paper at the front what seems to a translation in the common tongue.

Ned picked up the piece of paper a look at the title, and the words were ominous.

"The Mysteriums of the Darksign..."

"By Aldia."

* * *

 **Jon Snow**

He wished he did not look into that book.

He didn't want to die slowly like this; become a huskless being that was mindless.

The flashback memories of the past were coming back to him. He could see the downfall of kingdoms and the flesh of man burning. The sky was turning ash grey and the light swallowed by abyssal darkness. All around things began to wither and die and return something dreadful and unnatural.

The Curse of Undeath taking root in all living things.

Tears began to fall from his eyes as he saw a mirror of his vestige began to take form. He could see it now, the accursed sign appear behind his bandages igniting in response to the coming end of his life.

What worse was that it was only the first half of the symptoms he would receive if the book at face value, is correct.

"I'm sorry Arya. I don't think I can keep my promise to you." He sighed. He thought of his youngest sister. Out of all his siblings, he'll miss her the most. Never again, will he know her wild nature, of the memories of them playing together, hiding, and caring for one another.

"I won't even care about it." That was his biggest fear. When he dies, he won't care about anyone. What if he were to see again but as a different...thing? Would he merely ignore her, or worse harm her? He couldn't do that, not when he knows there may be a chance to recover what little he may remember as an undead.

Where could he find the lost souls of the ancients? The Undead Stranger didn't give a whole lot. Neither did the translated paper even provide any details on souls, merely the effects of the curse.

Jon hated that monster. The one would damn him into this predicament. He swears by all the gods that he may one day grant the second death the next time he sees him.

There was a knock on the door.

Arya was coming before him with something in her hand. There was shyness behind her calm face, and he can tell she was afraid of saying something wrong. Despite making amends with one another, his time of keeping his distance has only brought more pain.

"Arya," Jon spoke softly, behind the hood over his head. "are you sleeping well?"

She paces her head up quickly, her eyes turning down at whats in her hands. "I came to see if you were all right," she muttered.

 _I've upset her,_ He thought. "What's that in your hands?" he asked, seeing as that's why she was here.

Aya came close to him, moving her hand to hold his. He felt the shivering coldness and the pick cuts on her fingers, leaving scratch marks. She was needling something for him. His heart ached at the gift he was receiving.

"I made this for you," Arya replied. "I had to ask Sansa for help with this so I can get it right." Her face frowned at the that.

"You asking for her help." Jon smiled, "will you both now be gossiping?" he teased.

"Shut up!" She exclaimed with a smile.

He chuckled. Looking down at the piece of cloth, It had the head of a direwolf with a sword crossing over it. The wolf's color white, with the blade dark.

"You did well with it."

"Really?" Arya spoke loud with cheerfulness. "I always worried that I didn't do it right."

"No, it's amazing Arya." He smiled at her. For a moment to two directly stared at one another. Jon peered into her eyes. Looking at the Stark grey color that lay beneath that ice iris that made her eyes glow slightly in the dark. When he would ask his Robb or Sansa about it, they would say they never see it before.

Jon was glad that he was the only that could see them. They were what made her beautiful in every way.

He caressed her check to take a moment to look at her. It may be his last time looking at her. The longer he looked at her, the more he became swallowed by the enchant of her eyes.

Her eyes pupils were dilating. What could she be possibly thinking?

"Thank you," he whispered.

She grabs his hand on her cheek. "Can I stay here with you for a little longer?" Her eyes closed. "Then you can shroud yourself in the dark as long as you like."

More than you realize Arya. "You can stay for as long as you like."

Jon pulled a chair closer to the fireplace. They sat together to feel the heat on their skin.

The flame...

Souls...

He spoke to his heart. _"I won't give up on you Arya."_

He grips on the cloth, his fingers turning white. _"I will die a thousand time to remember you."_

* * *

 **Bran Stark**

He rode along his horse outside out into the fields. Following along with his brothers and father to witness the passing judgment.

It was a deserter from the Night's Watch. Someone was running away back down south from his duty. Bran saw up ahead, two of men holding down a man in black. Bruised and a fearful look in his eyes.

As they made it to their destination, father walked up to the deserter. "This man calls him Will, my lord." The soldier pulled off his hat. He looked southern; Blond hair, crooked teeth, and a red nose. "We caught him running down, but it seems my lord the Ravens got to you first."

Bran looked at his father as he walked over to the man named Will. There was no judgment on his fathers face. He remained silent. "I...I know I broke my oath." the Deserter spoke. "I should've gone to Castle Black and reported what happened..."

His eyes then began to widen. "B-but I saw them..." He muttered with dread, turning his eyes directly at everyone. "I saw the Others," He cried. "White Walkers they are coming..." He looked back at Eddard again. "The Night's Watch must be warned...everyone." The Deserter catch his breath and swallowed. "I know that what I did was desertion and what comes next...when I die, can you give the word to my family? His strained red eyes peered out. "Tell them...I'm sorry; for being a coward."

Ned gave a nod, and he was quickly put over for the sentencing. Theon had the hold onto the sheath as Eddard pulled out Ice, their family's ancestral Valyrian steel greatsword. He made his stance and spoke. "If you have anything more left to say now Will, now is the time."

"Did you see the ring of fire on the Others?" Jon interrupted. Why is he talking about others, what fire ring? Bran looks to Theon and Robb, but they seemed clueless as Bran was. It was the first time he heard Jon spoke for the day.

His brother hasn't been the same since after everything that transpired in these past months. Jon, while remaining close and being in their presences, was a lot quieter than before. He would only be seen around during training hours and dinner. The only other time seeing him was in the library. It would take their father to get him to come out and speak with the rest.

Arya on occasion now would have to come to him if she wanted his company. The same went for anyone else wanting to see him.

"N-no my lord," Will responded. "I didn't see any on them." He took a breath. "They simply were cold, pale, and they laughed at us."

When he finished, Jon moved away to allow Eddard Stark to finish the sentence. Their father had a grim look on his face when Jon asked that question. His eyes were trailing when he moved behind next to Bran.

"In the name of King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name. King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and the First Men. I Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, now sentence you to die."

In one swift slice, the man's head was off his body. Blood is dripping from the blade and off the corpse soiling the ground.

Bran flinches at sight.

"Do not worry Bran," Jon whispered. "This is only natural. You'll get used to it."

Bran looked back at Jon. "But hopefully you won't have to do that yourself when casting the sentence."

When it was all done, they made their way back to Winterfell. The winds were howling the coming of the winter. Bran saw looks given between father and son as they rode by. No words said were needed, for there was tension along the trail.

Down the trail, they made an uncertain stop when they found a dead wolf and stag along the way.

His father kneels to pull out the antler out of the wolf.

"A direwolf..." He spoke uncertainly about what to make of this site.

"There haven't been direwolves in the North for hundreds of years," Theon said.

Robb looks down and saw something flinch behind the direwolf. "Well, that doesn't seem to be the case."

Young pups were cradling to their mother. Whimpering to her and cry in a howl of sadness and are frightened by their presence.

Bran went to pick one up. Its fur was soft and was no smaller than like the star cats that come in and out of their home. One in his hands looks up to him with it bugling big yellow eyes at him. He couldn't leave them here like this. Maybe we can bring them home...

"Father let's take them home." He spoke. "We can take care of them."

Lord Stark frowned at that. "They are wild animals. They will eventually grow too big and are defenseless without their mother. It is best they be put down."

"Right then!" Theon shouted. Pulling out a knife to finished off the one in Brand hands. He holds him back from Theon. "No, you can't kill them!"

"Little lord, your father spoke. Hand it over."

Robb interfered. "Theon, that's enough, he hasn't given an ordered."

"But he suggested it." Theon refuted. "I'm only doing my duty."

"Eddard..." Jon spoke, causing father turns to listen. "There are five pups here. All of them young enough to be raised." He looked directly at father, his hood covering his facial expression. "House Stark sigil is that of the direwolf. These pups were mean for each child."

Ned took in his brothers words. He prayed that father would take heed and allow them to bring them back home.

"Very well." He felt excitant at those words. "You are to be responsible for them. That means you will have to feed them yourselves and be responsible for anything that happens. If they die, you will bury them yourselves, as they are yours now."

They went to pick all of them up, as they began to leave Father to turn to see Jon staring at the dead direwolf. He went down and found another one. Completely fur white.

"Well, the runt of the group!" Theon jested.

Jon did not move from his spot and continued to stare at the wolf. He looks back at them with complete silence and his shadow face towards them.

Bran could finally see his brother face. Jon's eyes were different; it was no longer the same. His skin, and his face, he doesn't even smile anymore, he looked more sickly, it was in the eyes...

They were dark. Not the same like grey steel eyes that were like a black storm, but a full dark color black as night.

"Ghost will be his name."

He went to his horse and riding pass his father without any regard.

"A lone wolf among the pack." He heard echoing.

They followed back to Winterfell. Father left, seemly to find Jon. However, Bran couldn't worry about that. He needed to name his direwolf.

The sound of a cat interrupted his thought and looked back at it. It was bigger than a regular cat. Blue feline eyes, and wild hair all over. They stare at him amusingly.

For a second, he thought he heard the cat giggled for a moment.

* * *

 **Hope you guys enjoyed. I know there isn't much action going on, it's building up to that.**

 **Please leave a review, getting your input is heapful.**


	4. Forlorn

**IV**

 **Forlorn**

* * *

 **Bran Stark**

"Don't whimper now, just sit and wait here now." He said to his Direwolf.

Those yellow eyes pleaded at him to not leave him here now. Even after all the months that had passed since his fur friend still was the young pup that he remembered back when he was only the size that his hands could hold. Clingy, babyish, but loyal for all that is worth between them. Now, however, he was grown and will only get even more prominent that he will need to live in another room if what Maester Luwin said was correct.

"Sit boy," Bran commanded.

His Direwolf obeyed.

"Good. You'll stay in this room until I come back. It'll only be a while I promise."

He barked back as he closed the door behind him.

Taking care of an animal has proven to be laborious, taking care of a direwolf at that. In the first days having to take care of him since bringing young wolves back to Winterfell, it was difficult. So much so that he had to learn by mimicking and observe how his older brothers were raising theirs. He realized from them that the only way his Direwolf was ever going to listen is to be stern like Father when they would begin to rebel. If so much as a mistake like a small bit on someone hand were to happen, they could get killed. It won't matter if it was unintentional either.

Bran has yet to give his Direwolf a name. All of his siblings have already given names for theirs. Robb's is Grey Wind; Arya, Nymeria after the Rhoyne Queen; Sansa, Lady for her discipline; little Rickon called his Shaggydog, though he doesn't know how on earth he made that one up.

 _Jon named his Ghost._

Thinking about him only brought more concern and discomfort. For as long as they have first have found the pups, so did his brother began to change into something...worse. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his face. The first image was that of a black-cloaked figure that blended in the darkness than a night's watchmen cloak.

Bran was worried, afraid even, of him. The first time so was when Jon almost strangled Arya; it almost looks like he was going to kill her. His eyes said it all. The same kind like father had when he first saw him draw Ice to slice the head of that former ranger. It was cold, calculating and ruthless.

Jon carried that same killing intent directly at Arya.

It didn't help in her case either. She was taking this far worse than he did, and sometimes would find her hiding somewhere to cry. She would pull her hair to mask her face, in fear of mother finding out of someone telling her. Bran swore to her and Robb for Jon's sake that he wouldn't know anyone, yet he it didn't sit right with him either.

He wanted Jon back. He misses the brother he remembered helping him in his archery who would whisper every hint and encouragement of how he was getting better at what he was doing. Like the times he remembered wishing to be a knight like Ser Barristan, Jon was the one promise to him so he would see him become a great knight. Now he never sees him, who else aside from Robb can that could help him now?

As he walked outside the wind blew upwards drawing him to look out above. Today the King was said to be arriving here very soon. With him, his whole family, the Kingslayer and Imp, and the stormland soldiers were coming.

Bran latched onto the wall and began climbing up, reaching what stone fitted his hand closet to him. He wanted to get a full clearing sight of the King's arrival.

Quickly, Bran climbs father to his way up the top of the watchtower where he can get a more comprehensive view from afar, an insight of seeing the Baratheon Sigil.

His eyes locked on to the yellow banners with a stag appear out from the forest. Hundreds of bannermen in yellow were moving, staghorn on their helms. From a further distance, he could glimpse red and gold on some of the other men on their horses.

The pure white golden cloaks were what caught his attention the most — the King's royal guardsmen who are said to be the best fighters in Westeros.

"Brandon get down!"

The cry almost caused him to jump in alert and lose balance from his mother's voice, that all too familiar strict but worry tone. She was far back below him with Maester Luwin with her. Bran proceeds to climb down, his head down once he started walking towards her.

He can't stand to look at her in the face like this.

"How many times did I to tell you not to climb Brandon?"

Bran didn't need to look up to know her eyes were burning directly at him. "I saw King coming close mom. He has hundreds of people with him."

"Brandon look at me," He did, Mother's face was soft instead of what he expected. "please promise me that you keep on climbing."

He looks down before looking at her again. "I promise." _I can't help myself._

She smiled. "Now I know your lying," She was almost about to laugh, "you always look down at your feet when you lie."

Bran's mother pecker his cheek. "Come now, go find your father, tell him that the King is almost here...and find your half-brother Jon as well."

 _Brother_...it caught him by surprise. "What do you want me to tell him?"

She made a stop, Luwin who remained quiet also looks prone to say something back to her in protest. Mother didn't turn her head back. Bran couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Your father will want him when King arrives, despite my best effort to give him his space." She finally looks back at him. "Don't mention my name, only ask him yourself. You may have a much better chance of convincing him. For your father's sake, help Jon get out his room."

He rushes without saying another word, hurrying first to find father, then Jon. However, this all felt too wrong going to drag Jon out and very odd to for Mother to have thought on about Jon. Was she pitying, or merely her thinking more for father?

If there was one other person that has to seem to change it was his mother. It wasn't a secret to any of his siblings, even though they kept quiet about it, mother hated Jon. _I don't know why._ At least that's what Arya personally thought when he asked her. Now though, she's been keeping any rumors about him at home silent, even going far as to tell all of Sansa's friends and instructing Septa Mordane to stay silent about Jon. Her telling them that he isn't to be frowned on when he's nearby

It was off-putting, but a welcoming comfort for Bran, that she would do that for Jon.

Bran found his father talking with a group of guardsmen. He reaches over pulling on his cloak. He caught his attention, "What is it Bran, has the King arrive?"

"Yes father, mother wanted me to tell you that." He holds a moment for what he was to say next. "Mother also wanted me to bring Jon out of his room."

His father didn't reply. He could see his hesitant to say something as well as the guardsmen grim looking faces.

The curse bastard was the new nickname that they have given his brother. All the guardsmen had that opinion about him. Sometimes with mockery and the few that said it was out of fear. It infuriates him to no end when he saw the dismay look about from those who see at Jon that way.

"Very well Bran," Father replied, "be sure though to have him keep his Direwolf away for the time being near the king's company."

Bran gave the nod and bid farewell to his father.

As he walks to Jon's room, up ahead, a big furry cat for its size was hanging by his brother's doorway cracked open. Its hair had many light and dark shades, yet it matched on perfect, and it stood like a statue.

Bran walked closer, his presence alerted it, and its eye drew upward to him. Bran never notices it till now since the last time he meets it; it's blue gemstone eyes like clear waters peer directly at his. He gulps as he continues to stare back at it. The cat was somewhat eccentric and rather tame for a stray cat. Sansa would have loved this cat if she were here now.

The cat opens its mouth, showing its teeth like it was smirking at him and tip-toe pass him. It's soft tail whip across his leg.

"Maybe Arya would like the cat more than Sansa..."

He came up to Jon's door and knock. "Jon, it's Bran the King is arriving."

There was no reply.

"Jon," Bran spoke again a little louder with worry "don't you want to see the king..."

Slowly he pushes the door slightly as it creaks open. Ghost was not here, but he saw his brother standing in front of a shattered mirror; his hands dripping with blood and his bandages removed. What was alarm though was the dark veil hole piercing his brother's back. It was a whirling aura of darkness swallowing the air.

Bran found himself losing his breath. His vision begins to blur green. In an instant, it faded, replace with black feathers falling around him and Jon. As his brother started to turn, the once deep scar that was there is now a grotesque infection, with veins were spreading like weed at the entire side of his chest. His grey-steel eyes that turn dark have now become devoid of any normal color. The eyes are now darkness with white-flames in his eyes.

Jon reaches his left hand out. It was a corpse-like hand. All the flesh withered and sucked out that his bone was visible. The air turned cold; he could no longer feel his heart beating.

The corner shadows grew larger and crawled to Jon's back. It wore on him as his cape. He was like the legend Night's King of Old. A man whom legends say gave his heart and soul to an Other who in turn transformed into a being of darkness and malice like her.

"Bran."

He stunted, suddenly everything was back to normal. No shatter mirror, the shadows removed. Jon face canceled again under the clothes he always wore, but the eyes, however, were still the same. Underneath they still look down at him.

Dark and cold.

"Brandon is there something you need?"

He avoids his eyes, to his shame he can't talk straight at him. "The king has arrived. Father wanted me to see if you were ready."

Bran didn't look, but he knows that Jon's face was solemn "I'll be down shortly...just finishing wrapping my bandages."

He looks at the hand on his shoulder; His hand wrapped with new bandages.

"Did you smashed a mirror?"

"...No..."

 _Liar_ , he knew. "I'll see you down brother."

Once he was away from Jon, he found himself breathing at a pace again. He hearts slowly pounding than when it ready to explode in a few moments in Jon's presence.

What he saw was real, it was not possible of it all to be an illusion.

 _"I'll have to work on it later."_

Putting these thoughts aside, he runs off to the crowd by the gate: his family and all the household of Winterfell awaiting for the King.

His father was at the front with his family by his side, "Is Jon coming out from his room?"

"Jon will be down in a moment he said." He wanted to tell him what happened but it was probably not the best time right now.

"Very well, stand next to your sister Bran."

As he did, he notices that Arya wasn't in sight. His mother is looking everywhere with anxiety. "Sansa where's your sister?"

Her answer came short when Arya appeared. Dress in a blue dress with fur and helmet on her head. Bran giggled, she looked silly in it.

"What are you doing with that on?" Their father took it off her, "Go stand beside your brother."

She frowns as her eye went to look behind him, looking out the crowd for someone. Jon...In disappointment, she made a sigh and cut between him and Sansa.

The gates open and all of his worries and thoughts moments ago were cast once the white-gold kingsguard appeared. Their armor shimmered in the light with the most infamous one Jamie Lannister, more recognizable as he removed his helm once he stopped. There were Westermen soldiers clad in Lannister gold and red that surrounded the Prince, Joffery Baratheon. The prince was looking at Sansa weirdly, but she blushed and smiled back at him.

However, what caught Bran's eye was the giant man with dogs helmet on him. As he pulls the helm up, he could see the burns on his face. He looked more monstrous than he did hiding his face. It was the infamous Hound that protected the Prince.

A carriage rode in and then what would finally be the King turn to a huge disappointment. He was large, his beard grisly, and his horse looked about tired from his rider hanging on his back. The King need a small staircase to get down from his horse. The idea that this man is the same best friend of his father who fought beside him during their rebellion against the Targaryens and both of whom fought in the Greyjoy rebellion was almost unimaginable.

As the King approach, from Arya's eyes, he looks over where Jon was coming from behind all the household. The familiar black hood that was covering his face, beneath it, he pressed his head up. Giving him the silent message to kneel.

"Your grace." Father greeted.

"...You got fat."

 _Is he the king?_ Bran was unsure of what to make of this. When his father looks down at the King's belly, they then both laugh, clearing away all of the awkward tension.

"Ahhh how long has it been, nine years, Ned? What have you been doing while I was gone?"

Father chuckled, "Guarding the North for you, your Grace. Winterfell is yours."

"Cat!" King Baratheon then greeted mother in a bear hug; she greeted an old friend of their father. One by one, he welcomed all his sibling till Bran found he was the last.

"Show us your muscles boy!"

With pride, he flexes his arm.

"Ha! You'll make for a fine soldier one day, like your father!" I hope to be the best knight in Westeros. Nonetheless, he felt gratitude. The King recognized him and would one day prove his mettle.

Out of the carriage, the Queen was the next to approach father. She was beautiful. Gold hair that glimmered like the blazing sunlight, as well as her green eyes. Her fair face lacked any warmth but was cold and indifferent. She laid out her hand with a ruby ring, father kissing it in respect of greeting the Queen.

"My my, who do have here behind us? Come on out!"

Robert Baratheon's boomy voice had everyone turn to the person he was calling out. The King taking an interesting at his brother shrouded and concealed. Father was worried; Mother's face, on the other hand, was petrified.

Jon walked over to him, bowing his head. "Your grace."

"Nay boy, if we talk, let it be man to man without that hood hiding your face. Come now, take it off." King Robert spoke at a level, yet not with any anger.

Everything became silence after that. Slowly, Jon removes the hood slowly, revealing his sickly face.

He was drastically different from the last Bran remember seeing his face. The once natural human pink skin color is replaced with an albino, sickly one, as though all the suns' heat absorbed into his skin. His grey eyes were gone, his iris were now black that matches his pupils. Wither hair hangs as threads; the once fair dark born hair lost it's color and was grey.

All eyes were directly at Jon, with looks either in disgust or fear or perhaps a bit both. He was in the old tales that Old Nan would tell in his bedtime. Bran, his family, and the Kings almost had the same reaction as the rest. Sansa's gasp, her hand to her mouth. He saw Robb's hand tremble that he needed to squeeze them still. The Queen shunned her children's eyes from staring too long, the youngest Tommen almost about to cry.

Brandon couldn't make out of what has become of him. If it weren't for the familiar shape long face, he knew that Jon always, he would have mistaken him for someone else.

"Dear Gods!" The King was appalled, "Ned is this your base-born son?"

Ned remained calm despite Robert's outcry of his son. "This is Jon Snow, your grace." The young bastard made flinched. "I'm afraid this isn't the best introduction, we, unfortunately, were meet with unfortunate circumstances that lead to his..affliction."

"Affliction, he's sick?"

"Not in the ordinary sense your grace, and this is not something that anyone can easily be affected of." He presses to shut the conversation from delving further.

"What does father know?"

"Then we'll speak privately about it." The King turn towards Jon, "Your dismiss boy, and you also have my sympathies."

Jon made no reply, he merely bows and leaves in a rush without anything more left to say.

King Robert huffed, "Odd son you have there. Bah, no matter. lets us talk more together in the crypts, I would like to pay my respects."

"We've been riding out for a month my love," The queens spoke, her irritation was obvious. "The dead can surely wait."

"Ned," He did not wait for Father, he pushes his way forward to the crypts.

Father turned to the queen, giving a sympathetic look, it was telling that there was no love between the Stag and Lioness.

With his father gone and the King and everyone settling in, Brandon left to get his Direwolf out of the room. He must be feeling cramped up in being stuck in his bedroom.

When he made it to his room, the door was already left open.

Bran began to panic; he remembers keeping to the door lock from anyone opening it.

 _"Where is he?!"_

"I did it for you so that he could run off to his kin. He doesn't like it that he's locked up like the other hounds are. Just a friendly reminder, human, direwolves are never strong on their own." A soft woman's voice spoke with laughter.

In a panic, Bran ran to find his direwolf, the mocking laughter still ringing in his ears.

* * *

 **Eddard Stark**

He knew in which direction they were heading. The sound of their footsteps reach to his ears, pulsing, overwhelmed by the number of things going on. There was much he needed to know from Robert. Jon Arryn, his mentor and a second father to him died in the past few months. Right after finding those pup Direwolves, Cat delivered the news to him of his death.

Ned knew what would come next.

Eddard spoke, "Tell me, what had happened to Jon Arryn."

Robert sigh, "A fever took him, most likely, from what Maester Pycelle told me. It burned right through him. It wasn't noticeable before it was too late."

"Ahh Ned, he was a father too us, you did a better job listening to his teachings than I did," He chuckled, "You remembered those days. All I've wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls. But, he taught us what is right."

"Aye, he did," Ned smirked, reminiscing his friend's pastimes.

"Don't give me that, I couldn't help myself."

They both laugh together. For Robert and Ned, the time at the Vale was fondest of memories both shared. Robert may have had his fun with the ladies-in-waiting, but Ned found his pleasure in studying and hiking in the mountains. The scenery of the endless blue skies above and eagles soaring.

Robert turns to stop, a seriousness about him. "All right Ned, I need to know. What has happened to your baseborn son? That's not ordinary, and something went wrong while I was down south."

Ned's face became grimace, "An unknown force attacked my sons. They went out for a hunt out near the old village Crofters. From Robb and men I've sent to investigate, it burned. We found no bodies, but my son told me there were and all the inhabitants died.

"Dear gods," Robert stunted. "Who attack them?"

"We don't know. We only have little information about the assassins from the attack. The only thing to describe them as they wore masks, the faces designed like infants, and they fought inhumanly." That was everything that Theon and Robb could give detail.

"I've sent word to everyone in the North, alerting them to be aware with cautious of anything unusual outside out in the forests. I've received no reports, and I can't do nothing without a lead."

"And Jon, your son?"

He did not speak for a moment. While it was true that he knows Jon is suffering from something, he refused to allow Maester Luwin to inspect him. The last words he spoke since the last time his son has talked to him were _'It's too late for me.'_ He tried asking on occasion asking him as to what he means, but Jon refused to say anything further.

Ned did all he could do for him. It seems his duty however as well as being his father was now growing on him. In ways, he feels as though that he had all but failed to be a father to Jon.

"I don't know," Robert's eyebrows rose. "I've had given all I could for my son, but sometimes he refuses to approach me and even see Luwin about his affliction. He told that he intends to take the black so that it doesn't become a problem for anyone."

"Ned, do you plan on just letting your son go off and die like that?" Coming from Robert, it surprised even him that would say that.

"It is his choice; I will not force him that would only cause pain. He has suffered enough." His voice was with conviction, but it causes a tremor within him when he said that.

 _I failed you, I'm sorry._

"I've always known that you can get soft and bold at times Ned, but this..."

"Please," Ned cut him off. "Let us continue what we came here to do. This something that I and I alone must take care of."

His best friend mouth went openly to object but didn't say out loud. A flow of remorse rose from within both of them. They walk further towards their destination.

Lynna's grave was their final stop.

 _"Promise me."_ Those were her final words. It still haunts him to this day. Much was their grievances for Eddard and his young brother Benjamin in the death of Brandon, their older brother, and father, Rickon. When the Mad King Aery's II had burned his father in the blazing wildfire, with Brandon in strangling himself, his neck chained and out of reach but desperately trying to save their father.

He and Robert would share in the sorrow in the death of Lyanna, but Ned recovered what he could despite much was lost.

The Stag-King placed a feather in the hand of Lyanna's statue. He caressed the stone yet smooth face gently. "Did you have to bury in a place like this?" Robert said sadly. "She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her..."

"She's my sister, a Stark of Winterfell," Ned replied. "It's here where she belongs."

"She belonged with me." Robert gritted his teeth. The memories while painful, also brew anger and hate. Hate for one man even though he's dead.

"In my dreams, I kill him every night."

He continues, not turn away from Lyanna's face. "It's still present in my mind, at the Trident. The swords' clashing at one another, the shouts and screams, the water beneath my feet...and he's there in front of me." He growled. "I cursed at him, used every name of insults that would piss of that winged-demon. I didn't get a single word out of him; he said nothing to me. Not a damn thing. I couldn't see what he was thinking under that helmet when I smashed his chest and the rubs flying. Those accursed Targaryen eyes always seemed to found a way to piss me off. He didn't even scream when he died...nothing."

He didn't not how to reply to that. Robert never mentions anything about what transpired between the two of them. It appears then that the stories of Rhaegar's enigmatic personality were true.

"It's done, your Grace. Rhaegar is dead. The Targaryens are all dead, their allies gone." He decided to put away the subject of the last Dragon Prince.

"...Not all of them." This time his tone was dark and carried malice. Ned decided not to reply. The last Targaryens fled to Essos. They escape with their lives, but they had no support. Rhaegar's wife and children lie dead. Slaughtered by the Mountain, the children wrap in Lannister cloth banners, as a gift to Robert. His hatred remained after all these years, and it still caused Ned even now, to be put on edge.

Neither spoke for a while, allowing the crept echoing sounds filled the hall. Finally, Robert turns to him. "There will be another time to speak of this later. Come."

The two walking back to the entrance. "I have another reason why I wanted to come down here." Here it was, the moment Eddard was worried about that Robert would offer. What Cat has been dreading of what Robert would do, since the raven's arrival delivering the news of Jon Arryns' death. "I need you down at King's Landing."

They stopped walking. "My home is horsed with too many Lannisters. Many of whom I can't trust, the rest are either serpents to my queen or someone else. I could sit on the Iron Throne all day with my as sweating, while all Lord and Ladies are complaining about money or lands, or some wild cry for justice. Most are a bunch of lies...I need someone that I know that I can trust down there. Ned." He directed all his attention to him. "We are meant to rule together. Lord Eddard Stark, my friend, I would name you the Hand of the King."

Ned kneels and bows his head. "I'm unworthy of the honor."

"I'm not trying to honor you." Robert grinned. "I want you to run my damn kingdom, while I drink and whore my way to an early grave. Dammit, Ned, stand up."

Eddard stood. "In another lifetime Ned, we could've been brothers bound by blood. But, it's still not too late for our join houses to join together. I have a son, and you have a daughter; let us both join our houses."

Ned received only a nod, with reluctance. "We'll talk more like you say later. Right now, we have a feast prepared for your arrival."

"Ah yes! Delicious Northern ale and meat to fill the belly!" Robert roared with joy. "Let's go, Ned!

Ned smiled. Perhaps tonight, he can allow himself to enjoy this himself as well from all the hardships. If only for a moment.

Yet, he could believe to convince himself. All around, he felt as though the Kings of Winter stone figures looked at him, a silent chill, shivering beneath his skin. He became filled with a sense of terrible foreboding. The assassins, Crofters' downfall, and the Direwolf mother stab by a Staghorn.

Jon's affliction or silently, his _hollowing._

The dark shadows of the crypts grew, it reminded him all too well his family's motto.

 _Winter is coming._

He remembered back the book Jon read in that one passage.

 _The Flames will fade, and only Dark will remain._

* * *

Tonight everyone was gathered in the feast. The sounding of laughter and roaring blocked everything of any calmness.

In the great hall, he could smell the filled delicious of the roasted meat and baked-bread. The banners of Stark, Baratheon, and Lannister hanged on the walls, where all the respected men who served the houses sat near their flags; Many, however, were dancing, many that are drunk losing grip holding their cups. A singer with a lute play, reciting the legendary tales of heroes of old. Many ears were drawn to his voice; powerful with matching pitch from the strings he strung.

The Lord Stark's children were sitting with the royal children. Robb held the young Princess Myrella's arm, the young girl taken away by his son. Her small glance when he wasn't looking, and smiles gave it away. Aya was next to Prince Tommon but was looking away. She had a very solemn look, her attention to something else. Sansa was around her friends and the Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon. She was already immediately in love with the prince, as naive it may be.

Edward was unsure about Robert's proposal to have them both married. It was too soon, and it didn't give him much a chance in talking about his son. Preferably, he pushes away from the topic altogether. He saw the queen next to him remains silent out of boredom. She did not speak Catelyn next to her who was growing as uncomfortable as he was.

He looked across all the tables. Robert was greeting all of them in their drinks and would flirt and grope a wretch passing by. It was somewhat unsettling to see not because of his best friend's acts, but how his wife seemed utterly apathetic when it's right in front of her. He felt sympathy for Cersei.

He turned away his sights from Robert; he was welcome with the view of seeing Jon sitting alone at the end of a table.

Just him alone with his Direwolf he named Ghost.

While the young boy's eyes were down, eating his small plate of chicken while reading a book. The white wolf's on the other hand, watched everyone. He observes while others who were curious about the direwolf would turn away immediately when coming in contact with his daunting red eyes. None would make a step towards him and his master.

A familiar figure was approaching his son, however. Benjamin, his brother, wasn't afraid and also wanting to greet his nephew.

"Lord Stark." a voice called out. Jamie Lannister, Kingslayer. Immediately, he proceeded to leave his seat out towards where the Lion is standing. "I've heard that you'll be the new King's Hand." The Lannister's gesture with a hint that it was no compliment.

"Aye, the King offered me the honor."

"Then it'll surely be a greater honor, once the King who will no doubt start a tourney, celebrate your position. The tourney can use some good fighters on the field; it's rather been dull as of late."

He knew what he meant. Ned will not give him such. "I don't find tournaments to be enjoyable."

"No," Jamie smiled. "too dull and boring for something that's trivial?"

"I don't fight in tournaments. I much prefer a real battle. That's when men can fight; there I can reckon on what I can do-"

"I'll never father a bastard! You hear me, never!" A venomous voice spooked out. Part of the side of the feats went quiet of the lout spat. Ned knew who it was that spoke.

Jon unceremoniously bolted out of the hall room with Ghost following slamming to door shut marking his presence.

"Excuse me," Edward said passing Jamie as he chases after Jon.

He follows close to reaching him, but also stay at a distance to give space. His son made his stop when he stood alone nearby the gate leading outside. Ghost paddle away into the shadows, the lack of candle lights allowed the shadows to hide his light fur.

"Father," Jon called out. "I know you're following me."

Ned was unsure of what he should say. He remained where he is standing, gazing outwards as the hollow moonlight glow shines down at them.

"Uncle Benjamin said something that made you upset?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Jon chuckled, he removed his hood, letting his dead grey hair lose to fall. "He protested in my decision to join the Night's Watch." He shook his head. "But that wasn't it; he angered me when he suggested that I father a few thrice-dammed children of my own."

The older wolf can tell there was anger behind the young wolf's calm words. However, it was in his hands. He was squeezing them. The pale hands were digging the nails into the bandages. Ned knew his brother was only trying to advise Jon, but even for him, a Stark, that was a slightly too harsh thing to say.

"Father, I've been thinking." His void like eyes was directed at him now. "I am your son aren't I?"

 _What is it that you_ r _thinking about, Jon?_ Ned pressed his lips. That was a question he did not wish to hear; it felt a sting at how he spoke it. Filled with uncertainty and resentment."You are my blood."

"Yes we share the same blood...but that's not the same as family is it?" his brows narrowed. "I'm a bastard. I should be considered even by Northern standards, an unwanted child. Despite that, you've kept me..."

"Jon," Ned ordered his attention. "You are my son. I've love you with all my heart. You are a Stark, even if you feel doubtful."

"Doubt is that what's left of me." He spat on the ground. "Look at me, I don't look the same anymore!" he roughly rips off the bandages, the wounds bear to see, weren't healing. "My body has degraded to a much worse state. There's is nothing left for me now."

"We will find a way son. I've been looking for every possible way that Maester Luwin has advised me, even though you refused to let him look at you." Couldn't he see that he was to do everything he can?

He couldn't take another moment to see him suffer anymore. At some level, he felt that he was at fault that Jon was in a predicament. He couldn't afford to lose him...he made a promise...

"I've told you, there's nothing that you can do for me. It is only something that I can fix." He returned speaking formal but held the tone of indifference. "Even if mean giving up on my duty as a Stark."

"What are you talking about?"

"Justice, honor, all of those things are meaningless in the face of your own life. It does not affirm your life than devoting to a higher cause. It's a weakness."

"Don't say that. I've taught you better than to give up on your values. What then, would you be left with if you give up on honesty; traded your honor for your life?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing!

"That's what I thought as well." Jon's face was expressionless. "I contemplated on what It means to have honor, and what it applies to...but I finally now understand after I saw the crowd at the feast."

"And what's that?"

"What we call honor, has been twisted into a lie." Eddard's eyes widen at his proclaim statement. "What we call 'good,' the 'honorable man,' is subservient to those who would take advantage of him. That honorable man would passively accept it, whether for the sake of his people, his lord, kingdom, or god. Never is the reward made for the honorable man to heighten his willpower."

"The southerners aren't any better. Much so, they are worse than the honorable man. They cling to power for the sake of it. Shackled by falsehoods, under an illusion that grants them peace. I see that now when the King greeted me, and his display at the party. A once great man, now fat and pathetic-"

"Enough!" Lord Stark ordered loudly. "I didn't teach you to be like this. Just what have been reading in that library?" Ever since he read that black book, he would look further anything relatable to it.

Jon did not speak; instead, he made a step approaching him. His eye for a moment, seem to flash what could be in terms as them being his once grey-stark eyes.

"It was someone by the name of Aldia that lectured about values."

 _So that was it._ He would have to look more into this Aldia figure. It is a name he never heard of, and it indeed wasn't Westerosi.

"It makes no difference, the only true value is yourself and what you chose your life to be." There was a firmness in his words. "Tell me, between the duty out of love and the love for duty, what would you chose?"

Ned spoke without hesitance. "My duty and love for you and our family are the same. To give up on either would mean disgracing you and myself. I must defend my home and as a father, to care and love for my family. "

Jon glare, unsatisfied with his answer. "...Then tell me my mother's name."

 _"Promise me."_ No, he couldn't. "Jon this is-"

"I want to know the truth." He demanded. "Who is my mother? Is she still alive? Does she love me? Does she even care if I'm alive, or is she dead?"

"I..."

His hands were quivering.

He could not hold any longer.

"TELL ME!"

His voice struck to the core of his heart. It echoes throughout the yard, yet no one heard him. Alone the two stood, and the bubbling memories of his past return to haunt him.

Jon could not know about his mother. He had sworn that he would protect him. Ned understood what Jon was feeling, and knew what it's like to choose between duty and life. He decided to save his life because his mother begged him so.

His mother would never forgive him if he told Jon the truth, it could lead to his death.

"I can't."

Instead of yelling, Jon spoke with calmness. "Why..."

"You mother made a promise to me that I would keep you safe. That is all you need to know. When the time comes that it is safe, then I will tell you everything you want to know." That was almost a lie, and he'd never tell him unless he knew that Jon wouldn't do something rash, or if he had taken the black. However, now wasn't a good time either.

"Protect me?! From Lady Stark or me from my sibling?"

"Jon," Ned thought. "I would never think that you would hurt your siblings."

"Neither would I shun them from they want to know, or the let my wife mutter spiteful words behind my bastards," Jon stated before walking away from Ned. Ghost emerge out of the shadows, his feet paddling along without a sound.

"Jon," Ned called out. "your mother does love you, always."

He made a stop when Ned spoke.

"If she does then why isn't she here?"

Again, Eddard could not answer, afraid to say more then what he already let on.

"I thought so."

So he left. Leaving Eddard, alone, in the dark, with nothing left but to lament over his guilt.

* * *

 **Catelyn Stark**

Cat let out a breath of relief. "Thank the gods it was over." She worried that it would have to stay there till the until the sun would rise.

The feast for all it's joyous laughter, excellent music, and her children being happy. Has taken a toll on her energy. However, it was overhaul uncomfortable and unpleasant. Albeit, Arya was brought to bed early when she threw a piece of food that caught onto Sansa's face. Robb with Theon joined together with every man and squire at every table. The poor boys will soon wake up with headaches no doubt.

Her husband, however, left her kept company with the Queen Cersei Lannister, as he ran off after Jon. She hopes that it'll never happen again.

Not after receiving a recent letter this late from Lysa.

 _"Jon Arryn was murdered."_ Her sister's coded writings said as much. Nevertheless, the murders were what caused her to be worry even more. Lisa said it was the Lannisters that did it, but didn't confirm as to who it was. She knew her husband's dislike for the Kingslayer did, and worse also when Tywin presented Robert, the children, wrapped in Lannister banner cloth. He never forgot what they've done and would have them both hanged if he could.

Catelyn grip began crushing the paper. Things were already troubling as it is. Now with the plausibility that the King's life is on the verge of being threatened. Ned's best friend, he will then defend Robert and find out clues behind Jon Arryn.

A knock came at her door. "I'm afraid it is late to speak right now, who is it."

"Lady Stark."

Catelyn could hear the familiar voice from the door, Ned's son. He opened it and stood there. He did not speak, and it was hard to tell what his expression was under the hood that shrouded his pale, sickly face. She decided to talk. "What are you doing here this late?" Her voice was emotionless, but she held back her underline tone of venom. For she was too tired and there was much more at stake.

"I've come to say thank you," Jon said.

"Thank me?"

"You helped me when I was unconscious. I was too afraid to return my gratitude."

She hid her surprised expression. She pulled her hair back, appearing her best like she always presented herself. "I merely did what was needed. It would be unsuitable if I left you."

"All the same, I thank you...but you could have left me. I know that you hate me."

 _Hate? No, resented your presence._ Neither spoke and remained in their awkward silence. Jon was looking over the fireplace, his attention away of her and directed at the warmth of the fire.

He walks over to it, removing his bandages on his hands to reach over. It almost was like he was to burn his hands. He did not scream, his hands hovering over the flame, hesitant to clutch it into his fists.

Cat observed with caution. The bastard-boy hands were wounded, unhealed. He lifted them over the flames. He did not quiver with pain in doing so, his face remaining still. She can acknowledge after everything thrown at him and transpire since the village raid; he continued to stand tall.

"Do you not feel your hands burning?" She asked.

"I feel nothing," Jon replied. "Everything from touch to sense. I've lost the taste of mead and salt. My eyes can see better in the dark, but the feeling of the sunlight does not grant me any comfort. I have nearly forgotten almost everything what it likes to feel anything, and I can't even comprehend why I even think sometimes. It seems little thinking about it."

Jon removed his hands away from the flame, turning back to Catelyn. "The only thing I have left now is my memories, but that is beginning to fade...Sometimes I think this is all a dream, that you all are figments of my imagination. That you never existed at all. However, when it comes back to me, I recognize that what is true is whatever I perceive."

Cat grew afraid. Jon was coming closer in her personal space, with his arms open. His words emphasized with uncontrollable emotions, and she didn't know what he would do.

"You are not well, stay back." She warned Jon.

"I think about my mother," Her words did not reach Jon. "I've always wondered if she was beautiful. Did she have dark hair like mine? Was her face gentle and soft? What was it that made my father drawn to her? I wanted to think that she was a noble lady, that she was kind and caring who'd love me regardless of whether or not my father was married to her or didn't love her anymore." He lifted his head, his eyes devoid of any color, looking down at her.

"Then it reminded me of the time when I saw you, father, and my siblings together, when I wasn't in your company. When I would look from afar, seeing them, seeing you sitting with them with that sweet smile, the encouragement you gave to Robb and Brandon. Telling Sansa how proud you were of her, promising her that she will fall for a man that will respect her. Ayra, for all her fiber and defiance, you still love her all the same. You may reprimand her, but you give her your love."

She tried to push him, but he grabbed her arms. She could find in herself to cry for help, fear that of what he would do to her. He wept, releasing his emotions. "Then it hit me. I've wanted you to love me. I wanted to be like I was your son, _that I am your son._ Even though we didn't share the blood, some part of me felt empty and broken because of you. You couldn't stand me being around the people I love. You thought I would take away from Robb's birthright."

"Maybe sometimes I did dream myself as the lord of Winterfell. Ice in my hands, with the North at my helm and I, would fight against anyone that stood in my way. I dreamed that I was unlike the Kings of Old, that I could be a true lord of men." He smiled with sadness. "I could only dream. I would never take away what is Robb's. I would do everything I can to help him." Then he turned angry, wrathful. "Yet, you thought all the same."

"I hated you for it. I wish that I can curse at you for the silent treatment you gave me. I so wish that I could...but you also gave me Robb, Arya, and all my siblings. I wouldn't have them if it weren't for you."

Catalyn was shocked at his exclamation. Speechless of what to say, unsure of what she should feel. Reply with the same amount of anger? Give her reasons?

He interrupted her thoughts. "I must know if me dying if I somehow were to die soon will bring you any measure of satisfaction. If seeing me dead will you silence the feelings that you have for me within you. Tell me, do you want me to die?!"

 _No, I don't._

"Yes." She said without emotion, and without hesitance.

Cat thought that he would do something right then, but to her surprise, he then hugs her, letting out a soft sigh. "Thank you..." he whispered.

He turns and left, but she could hold it in any longer. "Why?" For life of her, even she would understand if he hated her back, the feeling would only be mutual. Jon thanked her all the same. "Why would you thank me after everything you said?"

"Because I can finally forget everything. I'll have no regrets."

* * *

 **Arya Stark**

Arya was sent to her bed early. Sansa had it coming if she didn't see what was going to hit her. It wasn't like it she did any harm either. The smear food on her cheek was easy to wipe off. Robb carried her off away, their mother displeased.

She couldn't sleep, instead lied down with Nymira, talking with her. "It's not fun having to sit, while all the other guys get to scream and throw at each other."

Her direwolf yelp in agreement with her, It made Arya smile. "Of course you understand. You, Bran, Robb, and Jon." She then stares out at her window, eyeing at the surrounding aura of the full pale moon.

She ponders back at how things were. Her home wasn't the same anymore. When it was easy once for her to go out and join with her brothers in their training, she would slip pass from her lessons without notice. Now every guard is to keep a watch on everyone, within and outside of Winterfell.

It was different more so with her family. The Direwolves helped in healing some of the wounds in her own heart, and also her siblings own struggles after the assassins. Namyria became her second closet companion. Aya would care for her, to be raised just as any fierce Direwolf of the North.

Of course, Sansa would be the opposite. She treats her's like it was cute puppy still. She would give her sister credit though; she did manage to make Lady obedient.

Grey Wind, Robb's direwolf was much like Namyria. Both knew how their masters think and follow through without having to give out any direct orders. Shaggydog was patient and outgrew Rickon in age, much to the Starks amusement. Bran has yet to name his. Last time she saw Bran's, he was when her brother was in a rush worried about something may have happened to him. He never did say exactly what.

Ghost...was something different altogether, Aya did thought he was beautiful, but he was too much like Jon in his worse state. Both shared that cold and calculating stare. During the small hunts no too far from home, Ghost would bring back an animal without anyone notice and leave out the raw bone remains of his prey.

It disheartens her when she thinks about Ghost. Jon would come to mind. His illness has gotten much worse. He doesn't smile like he uses to, stay longer away in isolation, where she and Robb had to bring him out in whatever corner he hides himself in.

Still, though, Arya will always love her brother no matter what. Jon, in turn, still loves her as well, even though he has chosen to push himself away from everyone else. She can come to him, and he would welcome her.

Arya was pulled from her thoughts when the sound of footsteps came close to her door. There was no knocking on her door handle. The only sign was a person's shadow passing under the door. She pulls open the door, her pacing fast as he stood before her. "Jon."

He said nothing, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. "You look tuck in for bed then you usually are this late," Jon said. For the first in time in a long while, it almost looks like he had a teasing smile behind that cloak.

She took that as a sign he was in a good mood right now. She huffs with pride. "I manage to aim with performance and caught Sansa by surprise."

"So you were put to bed much sooner then I see."

"Yup!" Arya said with a smile then frown, "You would have seen it if you didn't go so quickly from your talk with Uncle Ben."

She felt bad after saying, his face became gloomy. "Yes...I'm sorry that I left you behind again."

Arya could tell that something was bothering him. He came here for a reason. It was all readable just by looking at him. "Do you want to talk about it?" she spoke softly. Arya grabbed him by the hand, telling him to come in.

He replies squeezing her hand. Arya guided him to her bed, and both sat. Namyria laid behind them with her head down, leaving them to speak with each other alone.

Both remind silent. Looking away at each other in thought which now should start. Arya gazes back at the moon. The mysterious moonlight's glow was outshining the stars from afar.

They return to glance at each other again. Jon took off his hood. To her shame, she almost yelp at seeing him this close. Gone was all the share features they had together save for the familiar long face. He still seems young and fair, but it had an illness to it. She couldn't put when his degradation began.

"It's all right," Jon lay his hands together, his head down. "I know it must be hard to stare at me. I look monstrous."

It troubled her to hear that. "Your not a monster, you're my brother. That's never going to change."

"No," He agreed with a sad smile. "No that won't ever change. Even at the worse time, we could have together."

"Arya, there is something that I need to tell you."

"What is it, Jon?" She questioned.

"Everything."

 **[Merry Christmas - Ryuichi Sakamoto (Piano)]**

Jon first talked about when he remembered seeing Arya born. Her skin was white as the snow, her eyes before they grey steel, were hazel like colors. Mixed with many colors. The first time he saw her when he held her in his arms, and she gazed at him, hand-holding his pinky, Jon swore that day he would keep her safe, and watch her grow up to become a lady. Imagining her in a blue dress, the lady of her castle and children, they both laughed at that. He knew later on that she wanted to be a warrior, not a damsel in distress.

They talk about all the things they did together. The first time Arya picked up a sword and how he was proud of her using it. Her first hunt with him, her first shot at a deer. When they would climb with Bran, and all they sat together to watch the sunset and pick out the star constellations.

"I remember the time when you bested the other boys in a race with the horses. The look on those farm boys' faces when they found out it was the willful Arya Stark that defeated them." The memory made Arya laugh. How their faces were burning red like they were about breath dragon fire.

Her laughter dimmed as it was suddenly coming to her. "Jon, why are you telling me this? What is it that you are going to do?"

"I guess I was pretty obvious."

"Jon, you may think you know things. But, you know nothing."

He sighs, "At the face of life, yes I don't know anything. However, that's probably a part that makes us human, which is why we crave for understanding."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Arya," He tone turn serious. "I want you to know that whatever happens. Nothing will change for us...there is something I must do."

"Something..." She felt usual inside her. That something wasn't right.

She began to realize. Is _he leaving?!_

"Jon," Arya said. "Please to don't tell me you're going to leave. You promise me that you wouldn't!"

She made him promise. He can't turn his back on her!

"We can make this work." She clutches him by his tunic. "Everyone wants you here." Your family wants you here. "Father will find a way to heal you!"

"Arya," Jon's voice was demanding. "Look at me." she did as he told her. "Father cannot help me. It is something that I alone can fix. I am not leaving you and breaking my promise to you."

She tightens her grip on him. Not wanting to her go of him. Arya tried to believe him; she wishes she could. None of this sits well with her though.

"Are you going with Uncle Ben to join the Night's Watch? Is that where your heading?"

"Yes." Jon nodded.

Arya felt a painful bad feeling what Jon said. It was unlike the times when he did talk about taking the black like it was an honor. Now, it was insensitive. "Do you have to go, can't you find it here, with us?"

Jon propped her hands off of him and stood. He went over to the table and drew something out of his coat. It was small concealed in a sheath.

"I'm sorry Arya," He pulled out the blade and presented it to her. "But its something that I have to do. Before I leave, I wanted to give you something that you would remember me by."

Gesturing that he was giving it to her, she took it in her hands. It was a light blade, thin, but with a sharp end that could stab through. Styled like the famous Braavosi style swords for fencing. Its steel was a smokey dark.

She tested her grip on the sword. There was only a faint amount of weight to her sword. It was a long as her arm.

She marveled at the blade. "It's beautiful Jon."

Jon smiled his dark eyes almost like they were twinkling. "I had it commissioned for your size so you can wield it until you tall enough to hold a much bigger sword."

She pout. "I'm not that small! I'm growing fast."

"It'll take a while still when you can slice a man's head off," Jon explained. "Your hight is a perfect fit for speed, and your sword will be fast enough for you to poke enough holes in if your quick."

Arya gave him a smile looking up at him. "I'm quick enough."

She paid her attention to the blade as an idea came to her. "..needle."

Jon raises his brows. He nodded with approval. "That's a fitting name, stick it in where the point ends."

That was the first lesson she learned from Jon when he taught how to sword fight. "Where the point ends..." she repeated back, the cheerful excitement of her present began to fade.

Arya put Needle back into her sheath, and place it on her bed. She took a breath and looked up at Jon. Peering into his eyes, seeing her full reflection from his pupils. Changing to look at his face, away was the sickly face, and in its place, the from moonlights ray shining, his skin place of as milk. His appearance was almost otherworldly.

She could not pull herself away. Arya found that was feeling drawn to him. Her heart was aching as she cups his cheek, telling him to sit with her again, almost in pleading way.

Arya did not let go of him and neither did he pull away either. Time had felt it had slow down between them, as they continue to stare at each other silently. Their souls communicating to each silently, two halves of a whole.

Daring, she slowly moves closer to Jon. His face was doing the same, with uncertainty. Unsure of what he was doing, but felt obligated to do so.

"Arya..."

"Jon," she said softly, as he did.

"I promise that I will come back to you. After I am free of this accursed sickness, I won't leave ever again."

She did not know which it was, but in an instant she found her lips press onto his. Their arms around one another more tightly than before. She breathed in the cold air, her blood rushing with an unsettled flow of excitement, and her cheeks burning. Her body shivered, and she grabs the back of his head. Feeling his grey hair that still attains its softness.

They pulled back, the intake of rough breathing from the jolt of rapture that overwhelmed them. Arya found herself coveting those lips. The touch feeling of warmth that presses on hers. She made her move and opened hers to take his. The second time it was more force, both moaned in response to each other.

 _Wh-what am I doing..._ She did not know what it was. For a long while in these past months without Jon near her. _Without his touch, a_ n emptiness began festering inside her.

She was pushing boundaries between the two of them, but she couldn't hold back.

Arya moved away from his lips and pressed her head to his chest. She could his heart was racing. "Stay with me. I don't want you to leave me alone right now."

Jon complied. He reaches over the blankets underneath them and warps each other close.

She closed her eyes, shutting her thoughts out and let herself slip into the darkness of her sleep.

* * *

 **Jon Snow**

He remained awake, waiting with all the patients within him for Arya to fall asleep in his arms.

Her face was expressionless, but her stillness and the moon illuminating on her skin made him recognize how beautiful she was and that when she grows, she'll be like their aunt Lyanna. He swallowed in shamed of the thought, however; he let himself to get too carried away, allowing his conflicting feelings for Arya and his fate to have him act to get closer than what siblings would do.

Jon gently pulls away from Arya. She tried to grab him again, and he swiftly put a pillow in the place where he laid. She snuggled into it. He chuckled in his mind when he heard her groan.

He checks over to see if Namyria was sleeping. He felt relief when he did. Jon wasn't sure what could happen if she were awake. The worse case is Namyria's howls will awake Arya and alert everyone in the hold of his departure.

Jon with calm sureness, walk in silence, tip-toeing when passing over parts that the made creaky noise. He reaches over the door and closes it. He then examines the area to see anyone nearby. With the coast clear, he made his way to the great hall for where Ghost awaited outside.

The hall room was empty and unclean. Spilled remains of leftovers and drinks stench the place, it all felt gloomy here. Jon chose to distance himself from all the rest. Seeing other people absorbed in their greed, whispering behind the lords and the royalty, it was a loathsome sight to bear witness, knowing that there are forces in the grand scheme of things.

Jon gasp when the feeling of intense burning appeared from his chest. He grew tolerant of the pain over time, to the point he felt numb where he would be. It would sting sometimes, and he could feel a part of himself again, in the worst sensation imaginable. The Darksign's power was growing stronger, feeding on his soul until the last bit of Jon Snow was all gone and in his place, the undead would rise.

He turns to the sound of batter noise from a plate. A cat was eating off the remains of chicken, nibbling on the pieces off from the bone. The queer-looking cat became aware of Jon staring at it. Its blueish eyes glowed in the dark like sapphires.

"Enjoying your meal?" Jon ask.

"Meow."

The cat turns to eat it's meal, ignoring his presence.

Jon said his goodbye to the cat, though unsure why he did so. "Enjoy your meal and goodbye."

With nothing left here, he went outside to the horse stables. One last time, he looks out all around Winterfell. Possibly forever. Never again will he soon remember the tranquil presence of the Weriwoods, the Olds Gods Whispers. The scenery of his home covered in snow, House Stark itself.

A final farewell to all his memories of a past life.

In the stable, one horse, a black steed, Jon wide awake and a snort in front of him. "Would you like to go out for a riding friend?" He asked.

He received another snore replay. Jon took that as a 'yes,' and place a saddle on him. His sword attaches behind it. It was the only thing needed for his journey.

Ghost was by the gate, sitting sit and turn his attention to him. "I'm all set, are you ready Ghost?"

The White Wolf merely stare at him, his red eyes were what he use to reply.

He padded on Ghost's head, and that they were ready to go. As Jon was about to leave, Ghost began growling. He follows the sound to what it was.

To his surprise, the strange cat right next to them ignoring the threat and hight presence of the Direwolf.

"What are you doing here, go back inside." He told off the cat. However, it did not leave, tilting its head at him.

Ghost cautiously came closer to the cat. He growled when the cat lifted one paw showing its claws, ready to stand on the defense. As Ghost went to snipe at him, the little furry creature hit him by the nose, and he pushes back. It hisses at him, daring to try again.

Jon thought for a moment that Ghost would have his teeth on the cat's throat. However, to his surprise, he shifts away from the cat. Indeed, this was by far second strangest encounter he has seen so far.

The cat came up to Jon and rub its head on his lead. Looking up at him to be picked up.

"You don't know what you are getting yourself into." He told it. Jon lifted the cat, petting its chin and it purred in reply. "But I won't stop you if that's your wish."

Carrying the cat with up the saddle, Jon kicked and they rode off. Ride out to what he can see what was foreseeable.

A journey.

A forlorn hope.

* * *

 **Hello, just leaving an update. Writing may be slow, but I hope you've enjoyed this. Leave a review, and if you want further help out, I'm looking for a beta or editor to make some corrections in writing.**


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